


A Game of Queens

by sophie9709



Series: The world of Molly Hooper [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, BAMF Women, Female-Centric, Gen, Hardly Any Romance, Minor Character Death, Spies & Secret Agents, Years Later, Years after previous fanficiton, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie9709/pseuds/sophie9709
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper had kids? What if their daughter became one of the best spies in the whole world? What if we had a woman supervillain for once? Note: no copyright infringement intended. All other works belong to their respective owners. </p><p>Updated every weekend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A meeting of minds

Modern trends has it that modern couples such as Mister Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Molly Hooper should only have two children, preferably a boy and a girl, no more, no less, at a very modern three years apart. The Hooper-Holmes household however had the audacity to break the rules, and had Charlotte two years after William instead. Nevertheless English society can be very accommodating, and the transgression was passed with hardly a word.

Charlotte had a comparably normal childhood. Well, normal as it could be when your father is the most famous consultant detective in the world and your mother the best pathologist in England. Let’s just say Charlotte got used to the idea of death at a much younger age than most. So did Will, who she was very close to. It was destiny they had their numerous spats, but even more numerous hugs. They supported each other in their pranks and alongside their cocker spaniel Blackbeard they were the ‘buccaneers of Baker Street.’ They were the fastest runners in the street and somehow managed to hide themselves in all sorts of inconvenient locations for the adults. To their credit none of their pranks were truly harmful, and it never costed more than £10 to fix their minimal damage. Well, apart from one time…

Several years had passed in this orderly fashion, until it was time for them to go to boarding school. The only event worth noting was that the good Doctor* himself, in his shiny blue TARDIS, accidentally crashed into their living room one Sunday afternoon. The Doctor had to stay for a week to help repair the damage to 221 in general and a little bit of 223. Mrs Turner was not amused, at first at least. She was quite charmed by him and by the end of the week he was sick of her flirting and fled as soon as he could. But before he left he promised young Will that he would come back when Will was 21 and take him to see many wondrous places. Will had wanted to be an astronaut back then but the Doctor’s offer was a good substitute.

(*Which Doctor? I don’t know-ask Moffat)

Will’s 21st came and off went the young man into the TARDIS. However, Will isn’t one to just abandon his family just like that. He made sure he came back regularly for Easter, Christmas, birthdays, etc etc. He would aways come back with wondrous gifts imbued with the magic of the stars themselves and stories to match. Charlotte wondered if her 21st was going to be as spectacular. 

It wasn’t, but it was still a very special day for her. Not that she knew it, but incidents and events that happened outside of her known world had just changed her life forever.

It was on Charlotte's birthday that a very special meeting was arranged. A meeting of minds, if you may. It was not in the middle of Siberia, or the middle of Saudi Arabia, or whatever extreme location where supposed extremists are supposed to have come from. No, it was in a much more milder place, where peace reigns and all was supposed to be good in the world.

New Zealand.

Or more specifically, Auckland. After all, one must need some class if one wants to be the ultimate supervillan and only Auckland had the cosmopolitan nature to pull it off. Not that she felt like the villain anyway. Instead, she, Redford, was doing a great service to humanity and one days she would be revered for saving it. The method- the only method- she would employ is a little…unfortunate, but one cannot have huge benefits without huge sacrifices, right? This was the mantra that was drummed to her since she was a child. No pain without gain. No pain without gain. No pain without…

“Madam, can you please see and sign this document?"

The anonymous henchman passed a piece of parchment to the expectant hands of his boss. Redford, from the inside of her black Savile Row blazer, got out her silver fountain pen from her black silk waistcoat. She then signed the document with an even, smooth hand. Yet, this was all a superfluous gesture. She knew, that as soon as the henchmen walked out the door, her little drone would go to the photocopier to scan the document to send to her taskforce around the world. The boss then looked at her mahogany desk. In front of her was nothing but a bowl of strawberries and cream. It was the middle of winter, but they make for such nice treats.

Silly little people. Didn’t they know that digital is nothingness? Just a little blip of electricity now and then. In fact, the whole internet, she read once, was only the weight of a large strawberry. While, just imagine that. One bite into this strawberry and goodness what damage to the world she would do. All of the world’s photos, gone. Those silly duck-faced selfies and the immoral pornography, gone. So would the decadent, childish games and those ridiculous feline videos. Ah, what bliss, what paradise this world would be. 

She took a bite of another strawberry and looked around him. It was suffice to say that she did not trust the digital revolution, preferring things solid, in front of her, moveable and manipulated. She leaned back on his plump leather easy chair looked around at the fine oil art and tapestries that line her oak room. Rubens, Da Vinci’s, any fine artist you care to name she most likely had hanging on the wall. No, you could not trust the intangible. The only reason why she bought a photocopier was because nobody wanted to deal with paper anymore. Not one. It was not like the old days, she thought, strawberry juice staining her lips. She glanced at her Swiss analogue watch. It was already sunset but it was hard to tell without any windows. One of the drawbacks of living in a shed, she concluded. She could hear the blasts of the ship horns as they left port. Forty years, even maybe thirty years ago, she would have made it his life’s mission to shut down the internet. But alas, she was born too late, and now this internet had wormed itself into every aspect of society. If the internet shut down, not even she would be able to live a comfortable life. It was the worst kind of life support possible, but still life support, and she was not that cruel as to shut it down now. 

-§-

Several thousand kilometres away, across the vast Pacific ocean, across Western Europe, across London, in the Sussex countryside, laid a grand country house. Everybody knew about the country house of course and being a private residence, nobody could be bothered finding more about it. All they knew was that it was owned by a cantankerous earl and his much more sociable son. Surprisingly no events were ever held there but the neighbouring estates were more than happy to take up the slack. It was a good thing too, because the country house was actually the headquarters of an organisation called Kingsman. Independent of any countries, or laws for that matter, their worldwide reach made them the premier organisation to sort out the world’s problems. However, nobody outside of their organisation knew much about their activities, apart from a few other select spymasters. They, of course, are not of our universe but their various versions have appeared here and there in others. You are supposed to of course not know about them but don’t worry- they have not learnt to jump universes and therefore cannot kill you- yet. 

They had several fronts, all of them tailors. They did actually tailor suits for the men and women more than willing to pay their lofty but reasonable prices, which is why every single operative was so dapper. One of their shops was in Savile Row, and in fact was one of the shops visited by Redford three months ago. 

One of the numerous rooms in the country house was tasked with surveillance. Arrays of computers filled the next room and one could hear the fans spinning from behind the wall. Such a powerhouse could be depended on for producing vast amounts of heat, which is useful in the winter. However as they are in the heat of summer the organisation had been obliged to keep the French doors on the balcony open in that room. 

In the surveillance room several screens showed the daily lives of the surveilled. All of the screens unmanned, apart from one. Here, ten computer technicians crowded around one screen, the one that screened an oaken room in a shed. 

One benefit of producing your enemy’s suits is that you can hide numerous cameras and sensors in plain sight.

In the main command centre several people held their breath expectantly. They needed this mission to succeed, for the good of the country and to protect the freedom of many others. This time, they were looking through the eyes of their agent, or through the microscopic camera on the glasses.

"Doing well, de Ganis. Remember, stealth is key,” whispered Merlin into his microphone.  
“Tell me about it," muffled back de Ganis. His real name was Forbes but Kingsman was based around the Knights of the Round Table. The main twelve agents had codenames that was based on Arthurian legend.  
“How’s Percivale?” (Again, codename. Percivale's real name was Ashley.)  
“He’s fine. He’s keeping watch while I try and pick this dratted lock."  
“Don’t take too long."

The ten other knights all sat around an elliptical chrome table. All of them were of course exceptional but tall poppies are no longer distinguishable when you put them in a clump. In fact, the other two knights of note was Galahad (real name: Harry Hart) and a new recruitment Lancelot (real name: Roxanne Morton). They will come into the story later. For now they were just other people peering into the screen intently, watching de Ganis and Percivale's every move.

An audible click. “We’re through."

Everybody smiled expectantly with a job well done. After all, the elder Knights have trained those two at one time or another, and it was a self congratulations for a thorough teaching they had done all those years ago. All apart from Galahad and Lancelot. 

“It is too easy,” was the words they were about to speak, but something else had already done it for them. 

“Welcome boys. I have been expecting you."

Blinding arc lights turned on one by one, until the whole place was nothing but stark white. The two knights were confused. Was this supposed to happen? Of course not. 

Another audible click. For most people, this usually meant nothing. Of course, most people would die in these situations. 

Not Kingsman. 

De Ganis and Percivale dived to avoid the volley of bullets that shot out afterwards. They then rolled to the sides of the room, taking out each shooter as they reached them. It of course helped that their suits were bulletproof otherwise they would have died five minutes in.

Once they were done they stood up to face the attacker. “Well done,” she said. “Oh, and thank you for being where I want you to be."

What was that supposed to mean? Unbeknownst to them three discreet holes opened up beneath their feet. A third click. Suddenly, yellow smoke blasted out from the holes. The Knights tried to get out, but they were caged in plexiglass. 

“Such a pity I have to kill you, but one does need to rid oneself of pests.” She sniffed. “I hate having my hands dirty but it must be done.” The knights were convulsing in the cage and choking, but luckily for Redford, the gas was thick enough to hide such a horrid sight. Soon enough the knights were sleeping their eternal night. Redford sniffed again. 

“I suppose this shed is useless now. Has my office been packed up?"  
“Yes madam.” Another anonymous henchmen. Funny effect a cheap generic suit has. It blurs everyone’s faces until they became one, and Redford could not tell the difference between any of them.  
“Oh and bring me another suit. I suppose what I am wearing has outlived its usefulness."

The henchman gasped. The three piece suit, made entirely of the finest black silk, blazer, waistcoat, three-quater length skirt, it would have costed half his annual wages to pay for it all. “Are you sure, madam? Even the shirt?"  
“Do you doubt my intentions?” Her narrowed mahogany eyes peered into the terrified henchman.  
“No, madam. I shall organise it now."  
“Perfect. Go.” She allowed herself a small smile. Another victory again, Redford. Good job.

It could not have been more different on the other side of the world. Merlin paused the live video feed and rewinded so only the face of Redford was on screen. The enemy at large. The remaining knights bowed their head in grief, not only for the death of their companions, but also their intricate plan. Months of planning wasted. They would probably never get another chance. 

“We must inform Arthur."

The universe is rarely so lazy as to provide coincidences and this incidence proves it. The current Arthur certainly worked hard for his position but there was a touch of nominative determinism so now the current Arthur’s real name is also Arthur. It was a constant source of jokes but now nobody dreamt of turning on the light on this dark situation. Well, most people.

“Well, at least we now knows what she definitely looks like,” quipped Kay (real name: David).  
“Shut up Kay,” growled Galahad. “We have known what she looked like for three months now. Heck, we even know her biometrics."  
“Sorry,” muttered Kay.  
“Still it is still the best to go over what we know about her, so we might discuss the best way forward,” suggest Merlin.

Everybody got out the file on Redford on their glasses*. Name: Kana Merrick Redford. Born to an English father and Japanese mother, both powerful industrialists and millionaires before they even met each other. Kana had inherited both her parent’s business savvy, and was now very close to being a billionaire. She made her money in the health and medical industry. There had been some warning flags that surrounded her for a little while. A few scandals all muffled up with money. Everybody knew she was dangerous but she was so ridiculously powerful people could do nothing.  
(*Most of you would have hopefully guessed by now that their glasses are akin to Google Glass, but much more dapper and better in every other way as well)

“She is obviously much more cunning than any of our villains we have ever encountered before. This time we must be more careful and maybe even outsource some help this time. We might be able to get MI5 to help out this time,” concluded Merlin.  
“This will also be a MI6 problem,” declared Arthur through the live video feed through his glasses. “But how are we going to keep our integrity?"  
All the Knights shook their heads in puzzlement. Arthur then sighed. “I suppose there is nothing now to be done but recruit new Kingsmen. Bring in your choices within 48 hours of now. Note the time, Merlin."  
“15th June, 2040, at 07:00."  
“Knights, have your choices in the outside main hall by the 17th on this exact hour,” ordered Arthur. “Do not disappoint me."


	2. On the Advice of Uncle Mycroft

Charlotte had wonderful 21st of course but by all accounts it was a little…ordinary. When your elder brother gets to be whisked off into an adventure that transversing time and space, of course you cannot help but feel just a tincy wincy bit jealous. It is only normal. Only a saint, or a truly apathetic would otherwise.

It started with a visit from a blue police box. By now the household was getting sick of replacing windows and walls of their house and Mrs Turner’s. The Watsons would have as well, if it wasn’t for the fact they had sensibly moved to Queen Anne Street a two decades ago. All very close but to this day Sherlock still complained that he could no longer just talk to John whenever he felt like it. “A minute’s drive away,” teased Molly. “Or better still, use your phone.” “But you cannot comprehend! His presence is essential. No, not essential. Necessary,” came back the whine. 

Back to the story. 221B did have a backyard but it was a small one and was already overcrowded by a small garden shed and an oversized plane tree. Nevertheless there was just enough space for the TARDIS to park there without disturbance or a crack on a pavement. There it was, at 09:00, on the dot, with the doors opening, and William Hamish Holmes was home again. Well, kind of. Even by now Sherlock referred to the TARDIS as “William’s place” and Baker Street was merely “someplace to visit at repeated and regular intervals.” Nevertheless William still had keys to Baker Street.

Charlotte was expecting her brother anyway and opened the back door without any other impetus. Her stunning handsome brother had many of her father’s features, the high and sharp cheekbones, the curly hair, and even the Roman nose. However, he had his mother’s eyes and her hair colour, and due to her influence his facial features are slightly softer than his father’s. It became a family in-joke that he was never home because he ended up courting some alien lady or rather. But really, everybody hoped he would settle down sooner or later. Charlotte took more after her mother but had her father’s eyes instead. It was her most striking feature, two brilliant sapphires on an otherwise unassuming face. It was due to this that she did have a love life, but unfortunately nothing worked out. 

They embraced fondly and quickly caught up with what they had been doing. Charlotte then asked about the Doctor. He was good, still slightly grumpy, but would rather not come in. Apparently, the TARDIS was broken again and had urgent fixes. Charlotte accepted that excuse with good graces. Besides, the few times the Doctor did come in he and her father would have a huge row about the logic of space-time after about an hour and both would rather not see each other again. He still liked Charlotte enough to get her a present though.

William fished inside his trenchcoat two small packages, one wrapped in the golden hues resembling Charlotte’s hair, and one in bright blue resembling her eyes. Charlotte quickly hugged her brother in gratitude, and quickly ran into the upstairs living room.

Mrs Hudson was upstairs as well putting the candles in the cake. Her parents up in ladders putting in bunting and fairy lights. Everyone stopped when they saw William. 

Some people are so beloved that as soon as they walk in the party starts. William was one of those people. Everyone quickly finished what they were doing and gathered around him to hear his latest adventures. Except nobody would be that cruel to Charlotte so the focus this time was on her presents. 

The first one was a watch. It was the most accurate watch in the world because it relied on the relative positions of the stars around it to work, not just mere cogs and springs. Its casing was made of bluish-silvery metal unknown to Earth until now and had a luminous crystal face. It also came with several unearthly interchangeable bands to suit different tastes and fashions. There was a funny story to go along with it, about how William had to commission it from a grumpy Chroniam- the only one that would do humanity’s standard 12hr clock face. 

“Most of the galaxy uses base-10 time systems, which, in my opinion, is much more helpful and logical. We humans are rather idiotic in that regard."  
“Is that right,” mused Molly. “Well then, ever though about leading a revolution on human thought?"  
“Nah, I have too much to do already.” William then quickly changed the topic. “Actually, I’m seeing someone."  
“Really, who?"  
“Ummm, this…how should I describe it…sentient…dog lady."  
“Oh really? You should bring her around sometime."  
“Actually, she’s a hermaphrodite so she is sometimes a he and…I don’t know, it really depends on her mood. I think she is a she for the moment."  
“Still, bring him or her along."

This little conversation gave Charlotte brain time to work out how to unwrap her next present. The Doctor was fond of giving her little puzzles and this one was no exception. William was very human in the regard that “wrapping” meant “paper of some sort stuck together with adhesive belt or string” but the Doctor was more open minded. Wrapping this time meant “a little indestructible paper box that needs to be solved in order to open.” Charlotte soon found the requisite pressure points and the little box started spinning and glowing. Charlotte knew what to do- she suspended it midair.

The box opened up its petals and floated gracefully onto the coffee table. Still in midair was a glowing sapphire crystal with a gold neck chain. Charlotte clasped the crystal in her hand and put the neck chain over her head. The crystal rested on her breastbone and stopped glowing.

“Did he give you that? My goodness,” gasped William.  
“What do you mean?” asked Charlotte.  
“Goodness, he still remembers your eye colour. Wait, what am I saying? Well, this crystal is beyond special. It is valued by everyone that is familiar with it for its many uses. For example, when you are danger the crystal will start glowing and emit a special signal only receivable by the people you love. It can also guide you out of danger by floating in midair and pointing the way. It can only bond with one person however and very expensive, so it is only used by rich individuals with long lifespans. Use by humans is almost unthinkable. Doc must think you must be really special."  
“He is forgiven for his illogical reasonings,” muttered Sherlock. Molly smiled.  
“In fact, there is one other thing I forgot to give you,” realised William. He fished a letter in another trenchcoat pocket.

“Dear Miss Charlotte Holmes,” it began. “I do regret that you cannot join in the adventures with your brother and I, but this was not a decision taken lightly. I know that it seems unfair that I have to leave you behind, but believe me, it is for the best. You're special you see, just as much as your brother, and fated for something else more extraordinary. I do regret leaving you behind from time to time, and so does your brother, but you are needed on Earth. You might think I’m lying but correct me in a year’s time. Happy birthday. Doc."  
“Needed on Earth? Will, what does that mean?"  
“How’m I supposed to know?"  
“Urg. Why does he have to be so mysterious?"  
“He’s old. Don’t worry too much about it."

But the Doctor was right, and it did not take a year for Charlotte to be corrected. Rather, she had an inkling of her extraordinary future just seven hours later, at her birthday party. There was the whole Hooper clan, even Sarah, who said she would spare a few hours from her concert piano practise just to see her beloved niece. Kate and Kitty were married by then for more than a decade, though they constantly complained their husbands were dull. From the Holmes side there was Mycroft and Lestrade (nobody ever bothered with the name Greg) as well as Irene and her husband, and Harriet and Tom Hurst. And do we need to mention John and Mary Watson, with Roxanne and Brian? All were drinking, laughing, and quite enjoying their hor ‘devours. All apart from the all observant, all seeing Mycroft. 

Mycroft Holmes had made up his mind. He beckoned to Charlotte and took her to the privacy of the hallway. “There is a matter of utmost importance that I must discuss with you about. Clandestine, of course. My car will be here tomorrow at ten o’clock in the morning. Tardiness is discouraged. Wear sensible shoes."  
Charlotte nodded, but who dare disobey Mycroft?

-§-

Not that anybody would complain about this particular set of orders. This meant scrumptious high tea at the Diogenous Club. It goes without saying that she was escorted to the Stranger’s Room-silently, I may add, Charlotte knows the rules- as soon as her plimsolls touched the marble steps and the oak doors opened. To this day, Charlotte remained the only Stranger to not have been kicked out for breaking the Silence rule when she first came here. This gained a bit of fame for her amongst the staff, though being the niece of an eminent government civil servant probably made more of an impact.

The door was opened for her to a table laid out with many silver tiers of cupcakes, cakes, and slices. Tea was served with bone china, and Mycroft was on the other side of an intimate silken-clothed cafe table. No, nobody would complain at all.

Mycroft asked about Charlotte’s plans for the future. It was not small talk- any progeny of Sherlock Holmes Mycroft took an immense interest in and looked after with the utmost care. For fifteen minutes or so Charlotte talked about her studies of law at Oxford and how she will become a lawyer. Once she was finished Mycroft reached inside his breast pocket and fished out another necklace-this time a little four-pointed ship’s wheel on a gold chain, with a K at the centre, made of twisted gold rope, encircled by pink enamel. On one side was etched a number. Mycroft leaned back.

“Charlotte, I advise that you change your life course Shall we go for a little walk?"  
“Advise! What happened this time?"  
“Orders are for choices I know that will benefit you in the long run. Advise is for choices only you can make for yourself."  
“Ummm, okay."

Charlotte couldn’t do anything but follow. She knew the streets of London well, but she could not say the same for her uncle’s mind. A few twists and turns of the street later they arrived at Savile Row. They stopped outside a tailor’s shop called Kingsman."  
“Right. Do you want me to become a tailor?,”snarked Charlotte. Because I’m good, with you know, fashion and all."  
“Maybe as a part time job. In you go."  
Inside was a world of suits and dapperness. Everybody inside was so well dressed Charlotte’s world view instantly shifted. She was well-dressed but not not to their extent. She finally understood why Mycroft wore a three-piece suit at almost every waking hour. He was not the outsider in his society. No, he was no longer the silly-looking one. She was, and her job was shared by another young man, about the same age as her brother, wearing a black and gold hoodie and cap. To be fair though she was better-dressed than him. 

“Mr Hart, how fortunate it is to see you again. May I introduce to you my niece Charlotte? And who is he?"  
“Mr Holmes, such a gentlemanly act to offer your flesh and blood. This is Gary Unwin."  
Mycroft nodded. “I understand."

Charlotte studied the two strangers. She was puzzled. Who was Mr Hart and what did he have to do with Mr Unwin? And why did he momentarily look sad when her uncle said those two words?

“Charlotte, do you know why you are here?,” asked Mr Hart.  
“No, Mr Hart."  
“Mr Holmes, how dare you! Go and explain it to her! I will wait for you."

(It situations such as these Mr Hart would pepper with some choice swear words. Luckily for many though he absolutely refuses to swear in front of ladies such as Charlotte- out of gentlemanly politeness, of course. For me, this means that I can keep this story readable for the sensitive, the very young, and working office people.)

Upstairs was a meeting room. It was green, and covered with portraits. At the centre was an old and magnificent oak table. Mycroft invited Charlotte to sit while he selected the seat at the head of the table.

“You see the necklace I had just given you? This is the symbol for Kingsman. Do you know who they are?"  
“An organisation that needs a tailor’s for a front?"  
“Clever girl. Are you familiar King Arthur and his Twelve Knights?"  
“No more than the average."  
“Well, the Kingsman organisation here base themselves on the legend. Here is their Round Table, and their knights are actually modern day knights in every sense."  
“Super soldiers, but for good causes?"  
“Not quite."  
“Spies? You serious?"  
Mycroft shifted in his seat. “If you must put it that way, yes."  
“What makes you think I’ll be a good spy?"  
“You have many qualities a good operative needs. Cleverness, the ability to follow instruction, intuition, and others."  
“Okaayyy. What if I don’t want to be a spy?"  
“You will, Charlotte. But if there is any time you wish to leave the training, you may call me. But I implore you to stay for at least three days."  
“Okay, Uncle Mycroft. By the way, you’re not a spy. Who are you for them?"  
“Charlotte, you know that I am a mere civil servant, with many masters above me. But if you must insist, I am their British government representative."  
“Figures. Wait, are they independent?"  
“They are self-sufficent. Any other questions?"  
“Not for the moment."  
“I will hand you to Mr Hart here. I have known him for many years now and he is completely trustworthy. But if you need to contact me, you will have your mobile.  
“Does Mum and Dad know where I will be?"  
“Of course not. But they know what will happen to you."  
“They’re…not worried?"  
“Trust me, nobody wants to incur the wrath that comes to hurt a Holmes child."  
“I’m 21 now. That is hardly a childish age."  
“Your father still sees you as a little girl, you know. He is actually more worried than your mother, though he would never admit it."  
“Thanks."

Downstairs Mycroft bade his goodbyes. He then gave one of his rare hugs to Charlotte and walked out the door. This time Gary Unwin properly introduced himself to Charlotte, complete with the requisite nickname of “Eggsy.” Charlotte could not help but smile.

“This way, you two.” Mr Hart then lead them into one of the dressing rooms and made them stand within a square. He then palmed the mirror. The floor sank beneath them.


	3. Training and trials

Who would have thought her life would lead up to this? Charlotte was now in a carrier plane, with the other candidates, circling higher and higher above the Kingsman estate. How did her life get so exciting? And yet there was hardly any time to slow down, to even take full stock of her situation. 

It all began when the floor sank. As it turns out the floor was an elevator of sorts, with bare brick walls sliding up away from them. They stopped many metres underground, to a chrome and concrete room with nothing but an egg-shaped shuttle on rail. It was an electromagnetic high-speed rail that speed smoothy across the countryside to a huge white mansion. On the other side was another room, this time with a huge glass window that overlooked the warehouse for all the Kingsman’s vehicles. Sports cars, private jets, tanks, you name it, they probably have it. Metres and metres of transportation vehicles, all very fast and beautiful. Eggs and Charlotte stared with their eyes agape for a few seconds. This serenity was only broke when Mr Hart started laughing. 

“What, mister?  
“Nothing. It is just that…” The wistful look on his face again. Why did he look like that? Charlotte just had to find out. “It is just nostalgia, I suppose. I looked the same way when I first came here. So did you father."

Charlotte’s curiosity could not hold any longer. “You father,” she inquired, head titled, “was he a Kingsman?"  
Eggsy stared at his feet. Mr Hart’s eyes peered deeply into Charlotte. “Charlotte, that question…"  
“Don’t worry about it. Yeah, he was."

Even Charlotte knew such a conversation was best left till later.

The first evening was memorable. All the Candidates were firstly introduced to the current Kingsman during a formal dinner. Charlotte was immediately interested in all of them and especially their reactions to Eggsy. All the others were from the aristocracy, or at least from well-connected genteel families. The Candidates were openly hostile to Eggsy for apparently intruding into hallowed ground and even the apparently gentlemanly Kingsman had subtle inclination of disapproval of Eggsy’s background. Only Mr Hart, Ms Mortan, a man named Merlin, another girl named Amelia, and she hoped, herself, disregarded the classist sentiments. 

Later on that evening they were lead to their concrete bunker. Cots lined the room with no separation between boys and girls. There were even showers and commodes in the same room. Charlotte noted small cameras dotted everywhere. The prospect of loosing her privacy was chilling, but at least no funny business can be conducted. She then chose a cot in the middle of the row, between Eggsy and Amelia. They were the only decent candidates of the lot and the only people Charlotte could stand any length of time. She looked at the green bag on her bed. It was as big as herself, but that was to be expected as they contained everything she would need during her training- regulation jumpsuits, toothbrushes, and even underwear. There was a tag with her name on it on the side of the bag.

“When you die, this bag will become your bodybag,” explained Merlin in a deadpan tone.  
“You’re joking. People have died?!” gasped one of the blue-bloods.  
“Yes."

There was something lighthearted about his smiled but Charlotte would rather be safe than sorry.

The routine was soon established. An early morning call at the crack of dawn and then military drill. Shooting practises. Class for all sorts of things- espionage, martial arts, and even tailoring. But nothing could prepare them for what happened next.

It was a week after they had been introduced to the fantastic world of spies. After the customary heckling of the blue-bloods to Eggsy about his upbringing, and the customary rebuttals by Charlotte and Eggsy together, everyone went to bed dead tired. They were woken up soon after not with their customary loud alarms, but something more unsettling.

Charlotte had dreamt that evening that she was in a cellar full of spiders. They were everywhere, big black ones with eyes of red and big, white fangs. They started to crawl up her face and probe her eyes and mouth. She woke up with a start. It was all a dream, she thought. Until she turned on the light.

There were spiders everywhere. 

Charlotte screamed.

This woke up the rest of the candidates, half of who started screaming as well. More spiders were crawling in from openings in the walls, big black ones with eyes of red, and big, white fangs. Charlotte had one on her hand. She tried brushing it off but couldn’t. Wait…

“Where the hell are these spiders coming from?"  
“You said it yourself! Hell!"  
“Well, what can we do to drive them off?"  
“I don’t know!"  
Eggsy rummaged in his green bag and found what he wanted. He opened the tube and struck a match.  
“Gimme your blanket."  
“Use your own!"  
“We need a bonfire!"  
“Alright, Rotten."

Everybody, apart from Charlotte, piled their blankets on the ground and Eggsy set it on fire. Charlotte was still busily studying the spider until she had a revelation. “These spiders are robotic!"  
“Well, what does that suppose to mean, smarty-pants,” snarked on of the dandies.  
“This means they must be controlled somewhere. Like a mainframe computer or something. That could lead to our escape!"  
“What is that supposed to mean? They could be controlled by wifi for all we know."  
“Not in a concert bunker. No radio signal can get in or out of here. This means that there must be a computer very close to here"  
“Or they can run off the cameras."  
“True, but this is more likely."

By then the other candidates had formed a fire ring around themselves from the spiders. Charlotte had to jump from her cot to the ring to protect herself. “For the signal to come through, part of this bunker must be fake. Either the wall, or the floor, or even the ceiling."  
Eggsy started tapping the wall and noticed it sounded a little hollow. He went to the other side of the ring, gave himself a running start, and shouldered though the wall. 

Merlin and Mr Hart was on the other side of three computer screens. “Congratulations for surviving,” said Merlin. “Are you alright?"  
“Robotic spiders, narf. They can’t hurt us,” piped one of the candidates.  
“Well, what if I told you that these spiders contain deadly and potent neurotoxin? After all, that is what the fangs are for,” mused Mr Hart.

-§-

The training intensified from thereon. But that was not before they all received a wonderful gift: a little puppy. “By the time the dogs have grown and trained, so will you,” explained Merlin. All sorts of breeds were represented in the cages: poodles, pugs, labradors, terriers, there was one for each candidate. 

Charlotte choose a little german shepard and named it Nancy. She looked over to Eggsy and saw that he chose a pug. Unusual choice, she thought, expect pugs were once fighting dogs. Won’t be surprised to learn they were the source of the word ‘pugnacious’. 

The training was designed for two purposes: to teach candidates how to be a proper operative, and to weed out the unworthy. Just seven days later they had their first experience with death: Amelia fell down during an exercise climbing up a big all. It was a huge shock for everyone and their vigilance increased.

By the end of the second month they were averaging one dropout per week. Six of them were left, the brightest and toughest that England could offer. The dropout rate ground to a halt for almost four months until that faithful day up in the skies.

One of the first things that candidates learn is to fall safely form high distances. Charlotte was very good at this, due to her time running around the street, and so was Eggsy. The training was very mild at first- jumping from high boards to swimming pools- and got more and more intense until they were jumping off planes at high altitudes with parachutes. This was the third time now and Charlotte enjoyed every jump.

She checked her gear one last time. The light turned green. Time to go.

Charlotte jumped, once again, to nothingness. She was floating freely and with nothing stopping her. The butterflies rose in her stomach. 

“Enjoying yourselves?” asked Merlin over the intercom.  
“Wonderful,” replied Charlotte. Everyone else agreed.  
“Now, before you all enjoy yourself too much, there is something I have to tell you. One of your parachutes will not function."

The butterflies dropped. “Whose?” demanded Eggsy.

“I cannot tell you. It was completely random and you must find out. Remember: everybody must come out alive or you are all disqualified. You must land on the Kingsman mark on the lawn or you are also disqualified."  
“Right.” muttered Charlotte.

There was a candidate next to Charlotte named David. “I can’t do this, I can’t do this,” he repeated over and over again.  
“David, come over here! The two of us can land on one parachute. If your one does not function, you can use mine!"  
“I can’t do this. I need to find out!” And then he pulled the cord to safety.  
“Five to go. This will make it tricky.” Charlotte looked around her. “Eggsy, you are now the one closest to me. Grab onto me as soon as you can. Leonard, Edward, Quentin, grab onto each other. Let’s go!"

Closer does not necessarily mean safer though. Eggsy was by then dangerously close to the ground. Charlotte held her breath and dived. 

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, Gotta!” Charlotte held Eggsy on by his left leg, but that was not enough. “Eggsy, grab my hand!” 

Bad move. The two of them tumbled uncontrollably. By the time they righted themselves they were beyond the critical line. Charlotte pulled her parachute, and prayed…

Whump! They landed square on the chalked Kingsman mark and rolled. By the time they got up Merlin had walked up to them.  
“You two have balls. Well done for breaking the parachuting record for the lowest altitude for deploying parachute."

Charlotte smiled but stopped when she saw Eggy’s angry look. “Why am I the one with no parachute,” he growled. Charlotte looked around. The three others were congratulating each other while slinging off their deployed packs.  
“I only take complaints when people whisper in my ear. Come closer.” Merlin ordered. Eggsy hesitated, and then walked towards him. “Charlotte, do five sidesteps.” Charlotte promptly obeyed. Merlin pulled Eggsy’s tag. The thrust of the deployed parachute was enough to take Eggsy aback.

“David, you are disqualified for opening your parachutes too early. Edward, I know the rules mainly never apply to you, but they do this time. You failed to land on the mark, so you must leave as well. The two of you, pack your belongings and go home. The rest of you, congratulations."


	4. Reginae Ascending

It was near Christmas now. The first snowfall happened a week after the faithful air jump, covering the lawn and the Kingsman mark. This pleased the last four remaining Kingsman candidates because on the last day before going home they could have snowball fights-after packing up their stuff, of course.

“Remarkable,” Roxy was her comment on the candidates. “Usually by now we would have only two left."  
“But remember Roxy, that we usually only have one position free. It is therefore apt that with double the positions we would have double the worthy candidates,” replied Harry.  
“True, Harry. Still, remarkable, especially Gary. I never quite expected him to polish up so well. He is the most gentlemanly young man I have ever seen."  
“Do not be fooled. Eggsy only puts on that mask in front of strangers. Charlotte, I believe, also deserves to be watched."  
“Hrump. Do you have a home to go to this Christmas?"  
“I do have an old mother I have to visit."  
“My family is expecting me soon. Yet one cannot help but think we are the best for this mission."

Indeed they were. After the deaths of the previous Kingsmen the other agents were quite rightly afraid to take Redford on. So it was up to them, the two best, to see what they could do to 'save the world’. Well, not quite. Saving people from mysterious deaths might be more apt. So far, there had been a string of people killed with only the murder weapon linking one with another: an almost undetectable poison, unknown to all governments. This was Redford’s signature weapon. 

Firstly, they had to get close to Redford. She was the empress of the medical industry so it was quite obvious that they were better off posing as doctors of some sort. So for five months straight they had to study the human anatomy as well as the latest advances in human medicine. Redford had an affinity for genetic engineering so they mainly concentrated on that. Then Merlin had to make fake qualifications in order for them to pass as real doctors. The first step done, now they have to catch her attention. 

Roxy, forever the forward thinker, had already booked tickets for a prestigious symposium on genetic medicine before they even began studying. She had to make up a fake identity and knew exactly what to do. “Father and daughter,” was her announcement. “Doctors Harry and Roxy Marple. We are not of course going to give a talk but we can somehow attract attention at the reception. We could say we are developing a revolutionary new machine that could scan people’s genes without any samples. As in people’s stick their arms inside and a minute later their genome is mapped."  
“That sounds quite improbable,” retorted Harry.  
“Still, we make it sound just probable to catch her attention."  
“What if she asked to see it?"  
“Developing. What is the use of seeing a machine that is not finished yet?"  
“So, Merlin is going to make a dummy machine?"  
“Precisely."

The first part was a success. The two of them had to lie about everything they claim to have developed but because they sounded so probable most scientists had only thought of them being bleeding-edge pioneers. This did not interest most of them, as they would rather deal with the more tangible near future, but Redford looked further into the horizon than most. She invited Roxy and Harry into her private booth for the symposium for a little chat. 

“I am interested in being a patron for your organisation as your invention is exactly what I desire. How long will it take for you to finish at least a prototype?"  
“Five years,” answered Roxy.  
“How about one year? Can you do that?"  
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You out of all people should understand the process of innovation and the patients that requires."  
“That is a mere excuse. What are your barriers, doctor, and problems? Lack of funding and people? Because I can easily fix that, you know.” Redford sipped her champagne, knowing she had won.

For the moment that is. Roxy and Merlin had already anticipated that probability and set up a laboratory. In the meantime the two of them could just claim that they have other research going on and just inspect the laboratory now and then.

-§-

Charlotte could not believe she had not seen her family for six months. The first person she saw outside of Kingsman was Uncle Mycroft, who picked her up in a government car right outside the door. The second was Uncle Greg, who helped her with her luggage. 

“Can you please tell me what’s happened to you? Mikey refuses to say anything."  
“If only! You know, Uncle Greg, that I cannot divulge anything, on the pain of death!"  
“How melodramatic of you, just like your father."  
“No, I’m being serious."  
“Nice dog by the way."  
“Thanks. Her name is Nancy."

Christmas this time was onboard the TARDIS. Somehow William had convinced the Doctor that a Christmas party was exactly they all needed. Even the dog-person came with them, with a name so unpronounceable that everybody gave up trying and called him/her Chris. What was more easy to do was to love Chris, because s/he was so lovely that the Holmes family was eager to call him/her their own. The festive cheer was so widespread that the Doctor and Sherlock Holmes were civil to each other the whole time. Charlotte only had three days to buy presents for her family but luckily the Powers That Be (Mycroft Holmes) had organised that for her. The only thing that Charlotte had to do was to wrap the presents (so she knew what she was giving to each family member) and to sign her love on each name tag. In return she received a few cool gifts: the latest Google glass eyewear and an ever burning torch (made, according to the good Doctor, of the essence of dwarf stars. Or that was as far as she understood before the mathematics made her fall asleep).

Charlotte could only stay with her family for so long. After the New Year she had to pack all her gifts and clothes into her luggage case and accompany Mycroft back to Savile Row. At first Sherlock objected to Mycroft taking Charlotte away so mysteriously (he made his intentions clear by choking Mycroft with his tie) but after a quick secret explanation and apology, with proof that Charlotte was never in any real danger, he let her go. But not without a huge hug and made Mycroft promise that Charlotte would be able to contact her family regularly from there on forth.

February rolled around, with some interesting events. Roxy and Harry’s plan worked so remarkably well they were invited to dine privately with Redford at a later date. This still allowed them to test their candidates one last time.

-§-

“So, our task is trying to seduce this lady into giving vital information for us,” half-asked Charlotte as she studied the file she had been given again.  
“By the looks of it,” replied Eggsy.  
“Dear me, I’m in trouble. I don’t have much experience in that regard because it was always someone else that was doing the flirting. And I haven’t had many people do that to me!"  
“How many?"  
“Like, five or six?"  
“You’ve still got yer posh accent and eyes."  
“Only eyes now. Don’t you know you can sound quite like royalty these days?"  
“Only if I try."  
“Still."  
“Anyway, what does Lady Elizabeth Mountbatten know about nefarious sentient robots?"  
“Probs nothing but she is the daughter of Prince Harry. She might know more than you think thanks to connection and all."  
“I have connections to MI6 and I know sod all about them- apart from that I have connections with them."

Lady Elizabeth Mountbatten inherited her father’s partying taste but her mother’s refinement so it was not a surprise that the party she was hosting was better described as a ball. It was hosted in the main ballroom of Buckingham Palace with white tie expected. This does not mean there was no copious amount of alcohol though. Champagne flowed freely, which meant a good opportunity for a chat.

“Is this the famed Lady Mountbatten? Why, I thought photography can finally do beautiful people justice, but evidently not!"  
“Percy, are you not going to introduce yourself? How rude of you. My name is Charlotte by the way."  
“Tsk, Charlotte, how low of you to pull people down just to elevate yourself."  
“Ronald, you are such a hypocrite. How dare you accuse a lady!"  
Just then, Eggsy walked in, champagne also in hand.  
“Is it just me, or does this champagne taste funny?"  
“Eggsy, champagne is an acquired taste.” Percy then took a demonstrative sip of his flute and winked at Lady Mountbatten. It did not do the trick. Lady Mountbatten decided to excuse herself from the ragtag bunch. The disappointed looks prompted a waiter to come to them.  
“Better luck next time. Or would you all like some help?"  
“How?” questioned Eggsy.  
“I do have some Rohypnol in my pocket here."  
“Upon my honour! We do not drug our dates here!,” cried Ronald.  
“Too late,” muttered the waiter, and that was the last thing they heard.

Well, I lie. “Last thing they heard” implicates death and the candidates were by no means dead. They were merely unconscious for a few hours. In fact, they all had a rude awakening…by an oncoming train.

Charlotte was somehow mysteriously tied quite securely onto a train track in a tunnel. She was alone…  
“Lookie here!”

Charlotte looked up to find a rather large, burly, and threatening man in unrevealing black clothes. He had a gun pointing at her. The train was coming closer.

“Lookie here! Tell me all ya know about King’sman!"  
“Who?"  
“King’sman"  
“I can’t hear you."

The train blarred its horn. It was too late for it to stop now.

“If yau tell me who the'ar, I kan git yau aut!"  
Blast this Scotsman, though Charlotte. Here goes. “Alright, alright! All I know is that the Kingsman is a fantastic tailor’s organisation…"  
“Yew really are dim…"

A pit formed underneath Charlotte and she slid downwards, underneath the train. Charlotte watched with fear, then surprise, then relief, as the train passed over her head. Once that went by she saw the face of Roxy smiling.

“Harry has to go look after Eggsy so I volunteered to get you,” Roxy explained as she untied Charlotte and helped her up.  
“Thanks. Sorry about Amelia by the way."  
“No need. Death is unfortunately part and parcel of my life now."  
“Oh dear. How long did that take?"  
“It took me a year before I got over grieving complete strangers I had killed, but I still want to minimise casualties. Especially innocent ones."

Roxy lead Charlotte though a secret tunnel to the Kingsman debriefing room. Nancy was there, and so was Merlin, behind the computer as usual. “Would you like to see how Percy does?"  
Charlotte nodded with a devilish smile.

The same train was roaring along the same track, only this time a young man was tied to it, shaking. “I want my mother!,” shouts.  
“Shut oop. Tell me all ya know about King’sman!"  
“Screw you! I’ll tell my father about you! My father is…"  
"If yau tell me who the'ar, I kan git yau aut!"  
“Alright! The Kingsman are a secret spy organisation with a base in Sussex. They consist of 13 elite agents that spy and kill for other governments. That’s all I know, I swear. Get me out!"

The same pit opened up and the same train ran overhead. This time though it was the very disappointed Arthur on the other side.

“How’s Eggsy?” asked Charlotte after she had her share of laughter.  
“I am happy to tell you that he has also just passed the test."  
“Oh good! Can I go and congratulate him?"  
“Sure, de Ganis."

Charlotte stopped. “Am I a Kingsman now?"  
Roxy smiled. “In all but name now. We have to get you a suit and there is an initiation ceremony, but that’s it, you have passed all the tests. Congratulations, Charlotte."

As soon as Charlotte ran out of the room with Nancy to greet Eggsy, Merlin shut down the computer. “You know, Roxy,” he said, “I am happy that they got rid of the final test. The dog shooting one.”  
“I know. I am the same. All it did was get candidates that were too heartless. We all need our humanities, especially in this day and age."  
“Especially in this day and age,” agreed Merlin.


	5. The Philosopher's toys

The next day was probably the most important day for new Knights, apart from the Initiation itself. It was called the Fitting, and here the Knights get their wonderful toys many would indeed covert. Harry, Roxy, Eggsy, and Charlotte all travelled back to Savile Row via the secret underground train. Then another elevator and this time it lead to the cutting room. Harry lead them all to the front. The shop assistant was there, always waiting, always on hand. Harry and Roxy gave him a nod. “Are the fitting rooms free?,” Harry asked.  
“All three are,” he answered.  
“Room 2 is considered unlucky for new Knights. Roxy, please take Charlotte to 3. I will take care of with Eggsy myself."

The fitting room was a little…dull. Charlotte had expected high tech walls and sliding doors but all she could see was a little green room with a row of hooks on it and a very large oaken three-sided mirror, which Charlotte touched. Nothing. Sure, the whole environment was very upper-class but still…  
“Wrong panel, dear. It is the left mirror panel if you ever want to go to the train” chided Roxy. "No, what you want to activate is this.” 

Roxy pulled down the leftmost hook. The mirror glided away to reveal a hidden room filled with the most wonderful gadgets. There were lit shelves of guns and various bullets, bombs disguised as cigarette lighters, poisonous fountain pens, and the most dapper shoes. But the crowning achievement was also the first seen in the line of sight- the Kingsman umbrellas. 

“You haven’t seen them before in action, have you?,” asked Roxy as she gave hers to Charlotte.  
“No. What do they do? Are they really so handy that you and Harry must carry them around everywhere?"  
“I must show you now. Eggsy on the other hand has seen Harry fight with them and has since constantly asked me and Harry for one."

It was a oak golf umbrella with a J-necked handle and button-ejected. The black fabric, when opened, turned out to be very roomy and generous. It was also surprisingly transparent, until Roxy twisted the handle. The options to kill came up. “It has a flexible screen inside, you see, and a hidden camera shows you the world outside. The fabric is bullet and knife proof. The centre shaft can store 5 bullets and they can do several things depending on what you choose. Let’s choose stun.” Roxy aimed at a mannequin and fired. The bullet pieced its foam body but not go wholly inside. “And after all that,” Roxy concluded, “it can still keep you dry in the rain. Do you want to say something, Charlotte? You have been awfully quiet."  
“Nothing. It’s just that…Uncle John, he used to joke that, before Uncle Mycroft got married to Uncle Greg, that Uncle Mycroft would marry his umbrella instead. Even to this day he carries it around him all the time. Is that why?"  
“Similar reasons I suppose. I do not know the specifications of civil service umbrellas."

And there were the cigarette hand grenades and the signet ring stunners. “The signet ring delivers 50,000 volts. Just touch the contact and shock."  
“But it is the amperes that’s important."  
“You must have done well in school. Yes, this ring has a low ampere because it is designed to stun, not kill. We did have deadly rings once but civilians were affected."  
“You mean killed?"  
“Yes. Charlotte, can you please keep in mind next time that most people are unused to the idea of death? Please use euphemisms more."  
“Sorry."  
“And now for the crowning glory.” Roxy was smiling, taking easy confident strides to the shoes. “These ones are oxfords, and these ones are brogues. Do you know the difference?"  
“Yep. The brogues are the ones with decorative toe caps."  
“Excellent. Are you a size six? I think you are. Try these on."

Roxy was right. The brogues fit Charlotte perfectly. Charlotte walked around the room and ran and skipped and jumped to test them. “These shoes are my pride and joy because I had designed them,” explained Roxy. “Try this-click your heels together."

Charlotte obeyed. The heels expanded lengthwise and before Charlotte knew it she was on her tip-toes. Telescopic heels!

“Clicking your heels will extend and reduce the heel. The reduced heel makes it easier of course to run but the extended heel- that’s the jewel of the crown. The outside edge and bottom is a very sharp and -don’t touch!- poisonous knife. One graze with its neurotoxic properties can kill you.” 

Charlotte then apprehensively clicked her heels down. “But what if you need a non-poisonous knife?"  
“Then use your penknife."

Finally, the most boring part- the touchscreen devices. “We use consumer devices now because the hardware is good enough but the software of course needs a lot of tweaking. That Google Glass of your’s? You can use it if you want but you will need to take it to Merlin. He will load Kingsman software onto it and makes sure it is compatible with Apple and others' products. And maybe we should measure you now for your suit in time for the ceremony."

But before the ceremony could be conducted, there was the dinner to be dealt with that evening. Harry Hart and Roxy Morton, now the doctors Harry and Roxy Marple, father and daughter extordinare. But they had to play the part of newly rich scientists, so they took a black cab to Redford’s prestigious London address in Mayfair. The flat was bigger than needed be, filled with the finest antique furniture, marble floors, and crystal chandeliers. It was by no means gaudy, not surprising considering Redford’s background.

“The Doctors Morton, how nice it is finally to invite you to my home."  
“I thank you Ms Redford, for inviting us to your lovely home,” replied Roxy. “May we dispense with the formalities?"  
“As we are so familiar with each other, Roxy, we may."

The dinner was excellent, if a little unusual. All the food, she assured Harry and Roxy, were perfectly safe, even though they were made with unconventional means.  
“This steak here never came from a cow. Instead I had grown it personally in a laboratory."  
“Personally?” Harry raised an eyebrow.  
“But of course. You see, someone in my sensitive position could never be safeguarded enough against all threats of attack. I personally grow my own food either in my laboratory or green house. The food you eat are literally the fruits of my labour."  
“I must congratulate you Kana."  
“Thank you Harry. Does the food agree with you, Roxy?"  
“But of course. This is probably the most delicious food I have ever tasted."  
“This is part of my health regime. I realised that it is the people who can control the genetics have the ultimate power of control. After all genes are the information tapes of the machination of the body. I intend to have full control of my body and this includes controlling my genes as well."  
“How has that worked out?” asked Harry with the purest curiosity he had for a long time.  
“Much better. I can now think faster, move surer, and be luckier. I have now cured myself of any diseases I may have predisposition to."  
“Impressive. How do you do it?"  
“Harry, we may be friends, but there are still secrets best kept to oneself."

Meanwhile, Charlotte and Eggsy were with Merlin back at the Kingsman base. They chose not go outside until their ceremony was conducted because there was still so much left to be learnt. It was another plush room they were in with paintings of past illustrious Kingsman and an alabaster fireplace. Nancy was sleeping besides Charlotte’s feet and JB on Eggsy’s lap. On Merlin’s computer, and a huge screen, was the livestream of Harry’s and Roxy’s glasses.

“I’m half respectful of her and half terrified,” admitted Eggsy.  
“That is basically most people’s relationship with a god,” agreed Charlotte.  
“I disagree,” quipped in Merlin. “Redford, brilliant as she is, is still a mere mortal."  
“Mere?!” Both gasped. How could someone with full control of their body be a ‘mere mortal?’  
“Do you believe her?” The pair nodded. “Sheesh, really?"

But the conversation on the other side continued. They were on the ethics and philosophy of their jobs.

“If your patient has an incurable genetic disease, what would you tell them?"  
“I have to tell them the truth, of course,” started Harry, “but it is my duty to comfort them as much as possible."  
“What if they want children and their children have a chance of inheriting that disease?"  
“I would advise against it but I cannot do anymore."  
“Those poor children! What would you do then for them? Have you not failed them? Surely non-existence is more merciful than a painful one?"  
“It is not a choice for me to make."  
“Think of the children!"  
Harry looked visibly very uncomfortable. “And now for you Roxy,” Redford said with an innocent smile, “here is one for you. If your patient is pregnant but found herself with a curable genetic disease, but the treatment would kill her baby, what would you do?"  
“Wait until the baby is delivered than start treatment."  
“What if the mother needs treatment before the baby can be safely delivered?"  
“Then the decision is at the discretion of the mother."  
“You two are not as impressive as I think you were.” Redford then sighed. “When presented with a moral conundrum, the two of you do what all other doctors do: cop out, and leave the decision to ignorant patients. You are doctors. You have the knowledge and power over them. Use it!” And then another sigh. “I am very disappointed in you."  
Redford was younger than Harry and the same age as Roxy, which made her only a few years older than Charlotte. Yet somehow everybody that watched her rant felt tails between their legs. “If you wish,” Harry spoke, “we can leave you be."  
“No, don’t! I have dessert made for you. Such a waste if you leave it. Do you like strawberries?"


	6. First assignment

The new suits came a few days after the dinner. Charlotte was beyond excited, and so was Eggsy. Charlotte had decided on a dark cobalt to compliment her eyes while Eggsy the traditional black pinstripe. What was interesting was Charlotte’s lower half of the suit.   
“I have a three-quater length skirt and trousers. Why?"  
“Why not?,” asked Roxy. “I can assure you however that both contain very roomy pockets. Oh, no need to look so jealous, Eggsy. You only needed to have requested it."  
“You requested it for me?"  
“I want to protect you from beginner’s regrets, you see."

And now for some real and proper Kingsman practise. As Knights now Charlotte and Eggsy could finally practise with real and proper Kinsmen weapons with the other more experienced Knights. Nevertheless as newbies they decided to stick with their mentors. Besides the other Knights are disinclined to be in the same room as Eggsy but Charlotte had the exact opposite sentiment. The other Knights were always polite about it of course- just a slight excuse over the tiredness, the sweat, and the need to got use the facilities. There was also superficial displays of kindness, of saying they can have the floor to themselves, or that they have no use of these equipments anymore. Nevertheless each stabbed Eggsy like a fine knife. It was only when he pulled out the knives one by one to examine the wounds did he come to realise his injuries. But he had Charlotte, and Harry, and Roxy, and that was all he needed. Besides, he had his family to save.

-§-

“I hate large parties.” This was Charlotte’s first reaction when she received her first ever proper assignment with Eggsy. “A charity ball by the most prominent businesspeople in the world. A masked ball, with stifling etiquette and ridiculous costume for us ladies."  
“Do be quiet,” chastened Merlin. “Compared to the other assignments, this is easy."  
“Do I have to run in a dress?"  
“You may have to. But that will also be easier than you think."  
“Have you ever ran in a dress?”  
“Yes.”  
“Right.”

The Kingsman tailors were geniuses, creating a smooth silk sky blue dress with a Queen Anne neckline that was somewhat easy to run in- for a dress that is. Charlotte thought she was still handicapped compared to Eggsy’s trousers. Nevertheless it was all part of the job. Sacrifices had to be made. For Charlotte, she could no longer speak her mind. She had to play the part of a perfect debutante, a demure virgin just waiting to be saved from the drudgery of singleton life by a dashing, eligible man. This meant staying silent expect for the times it was polite to insert some mundane but sweet comment on the colour of the dress or the shoes or the bag or…whatever gaudy thing somebody was wearing. Also, nothing sexual whatsoever. No touching, no hugging, and definitely no kissing. And no running. This was kind of implied with the heels she wore with her dress which restricted any movement beyond a simple slow glide. But this was only a facade. 

“Again, the heels are telescopic.” explained Merlin. “And all the clothing you are wearing are bulletproof as well as knife proof. Within the ruffles of your dress are cavities for weapons."

Silk hiding steel, quite literally. With the dress, purse, shoes, hair up, makeup on, gloves worn, jewellery placed, and tiara slid in, she had transformed into Miss Charlotte, in relation to some prominent civil servant and daughter of a knight. Her companion was her stylish brother, a little careless and definitely a ladies’ man. Eggsy’s tuxedo did its job. “Not fair,” Charlotte complained. “Eggsy’s role is much more fun."

Eggsy smiled. “Mister Bradthorne Caraway at your service, but please call me Brad.” He then leant out his hand, which Charlotte accepted with mock grace. “Brother dear,” said Charlotte as she remembered how Mycroft acted around Sherlock, “I think we forgot something.” Two identical black masks, Zorro-style, with smart glasses embedded underneath were on a table nearby. “Maybe we should test it out."

The ball was at one of the large palaces that still dot the city of Berlin. It was an exclusive event, not that it meant anything to the Kingsman organisation. Red carpet lined the stairs in the cloudy evening while the lineup of the latest luxury cars lasted for tens of metres. Charlotte and Eggsy arrived in a silver Bentley limousine driven by none other than Roxy. Final preparations were made until the two of them slid their masks on.

“Remember the procedures. What is his name, Charlotte?"  
“Bradthorne Caraway."  
“And when you talk to him via the radio, what do you call him?"  
“Percival."  
“Percival, what do you call her as Bradthorne?"  
“Chatty."  
“And on the radio?"  
“de Ganis."  
“And if you two want to talk to me, what do you call me?"  
“Galahad,” they both repeated.  
“And what are we doing here?"  
“Protecting out target Alexander Benz."  
“Good. Now have a nice time."

The two different distinct personalities were deliberate. Bradthorne, brash, bold, and talkative, would be Benz’s type of company. That way, Eggsy could keep a close eye on him to prevent any…unfortunate accidents in regards to food, drinks, and cutlery. Charlotte, on the other hand, would be one to mingle with the crowd. She could be anywhere and her innocence was the key to all the rooms. This made her an effective scouter against snipers.

The ballroom was in a cross-shape with balconies in various places to watch the dancers below. One of the wings full of couches and drapery. This made it easy to hide somebody from say, a bullet. It was agreed that Eggsy would try to keep Alexander there to minimise the chance of death by sniper. Easier said than done though.

“Why can’t we go there? There’s all the pretty girls.” It was sometimes noted that money and privilege kept young men in their infantile stage for a frustratingly long time. Alexander Benz, unfortunately, was prime evidence for that.

“Alex, please, don’t you want to get something to eat?"  
“Hallo my little pretties. How are you?” There was something about his drunken accent that made the girls giggle. Or maybe it was the prospect of bragging about sleeping with him afterwards. Whatever it was, Eggsy was very frustrated. “Hey Charlotte,” he whispered on the radio.   
“Percival, please."  
“Sorry, de Ganis. Any guns?"  
“Nope. I’m just as bored as you are."  
“Who would kill this dweeb anyway."  
“His younger brother?"  
“Oh yeah."  
“Even then, I have to agree that alcohol auto-poisoning would do a much cleaner job. Diederik would do a better job just letting his brother self-destruct."  
“But why are we protecting him?"  
“The Powers That Be thinks that having an idiot sharing power with a brilliant psychopath would hamper any evil plans the psychopath may have."  
“Really?”  
“I really don’t understand myself as well, actually. Hold up, I see someone with a suitcase. Can you please move our target to the safe zone? If you can’t then move the girls."  
“Sure. Percival out."

Charlotte followed the man as quickly as she could. In her dress she looked as if she was flying, which earned some disapproving stares from the older matrons who thought all young women should stay grounded all the time. But if they had to choose life over etiquette, well…

The stairs was the most difficult bit. Many times Charlotte almost tripped over her petticoats, and this was with her heel down. But somehow she made it with the support of bannisters and soon she had arrived on the upper floor of the ballroom. Charlotte breathed in, and clicked her heels up again. She then followed the man into one of the balconies.

It was the only one that overlooked the drapes. The would-be sniper sighed as he could not see Alexander. Suddenly, his loud laugh, and his head leaning back just out of one of the awnings. His crown was staying there in ecstasy.

The man was about to open the case…

“Nice suitcase you have here,” said Charlotte with an innocent smile. “Where did it come from?”   
The man looked up in surprise at Charlotte. What business does a girl have up here? “Milan,” he replied.  
“Such a nice case! But why did you bring it in here?"  
“Business.” He looked at Charlotte again. Everything about her was normal. Even her ring, which he admitted was a little unusual, but by no means uncommon. It was a simple silver band with an odd symbol on it. It looked like a stylised B or something. Must be a class ring, he though.  
“Goodness! Mixing business with pleasure. Do you ever have proper leisure? Oh, goodness, where did my manners go? My name is Charlotte Caraway.” She then extended out a friendly hand.  
He does the same. “Antonio…"  
The currant surged though his system until his brain did not know what to do but decommission themselves for a little while. Antonio then laid on the ground, unconscious but not quite dead. Charlotte stepped back looked at her ring again. How did it do that? She then remembered who she was and immediately walked out from the balcony.

“Galahad? I think I took out the assassin."  
“How do you know?"  
“Well, I’m scanning the case now and it looks like I can see a sniper rifle in there. Except…ooh, clever, a laser gun! No bullets to trace back."  
“I can see the same thing. Good job, de Ganis, but you still have three hours to go. No doubt there will be several others."  
“Are you sending cleanup in now?"  
“Yep. Curious, about that laser gun…"  
“Hmm?"  
“I will explain when you two get back. In the meantime enjoy yourself but do you job."  
“Roger that."


	7. Redford’s charity, or the past revealed.

Charlotte and Eggsy’s first operations was, not to brag, a success. For the rest of the evening they managed to track down two more assassins. Their other methods were a little unusual, to say the least. After what they had seen happen to their teammate Antonio they obviously thought a different method was desperately needed. One of them was a very pretty young lady in her mid-twenties and almost poisoned Alexander with a cherry from her matinee. Another was a dashing man of a similar age and got very close to actually kissing Alexander on the lips and stabbing him on the back. When Alexander started passing out was Eggsy able to talk sense to Alexander’s bodyguards and actually carry Alexander home. After all, there was only so much you could do when your boss actually wants to party. This happened at the stroke of one in the morning. Only then was Eggy’s and Charlotte’s work done, with Alexander mainly intact (he managed to get a minor paper cut and strange looks when he started singing “I Kissed A Guy And I Liked It” ear-piercingly off key.)

This worried Redford a lot. Rumour has it (oooohhh) that a series of assassination attempts had been foiled (and some actual successful assassinations done) by people of the same skill set and stylish suits. In fact, amongst her circles the Kingsman knights have been called 'those darling/damned/dastardly dandies’. They were like rats, proficient, hidden, and always one step ahead of you. They were such a pest that it became a sport to kill them, with a million dollar prize for every Knight killed. Not that Redford needed the money but it was nice to have the distinction. She kept the suits of the previous de Ganis and Percival in a glass case. It would be barbaric if she used anything else.

Besides, she has another dinner to worry about.

Redford was fond of New Zealand, so the fact that the Kingsman organisation had ratted her out of her warehouse annoyed her. Never mind, at least she had her legitimate identity to fall back on. This included a mansion near Queenstown, where she hosted many, many important guests. This now included the United States Secretary of Health and Human Services Tiana Cooper as well as her deputy Mary Chan. 

After dinner, Redford lead them to her personal laboratory underground. She then handed them two thin transparent wafers. 

“This is my first prototype of my product I have been working on. After many years I have managed to downsize it into microscopic levels and made it much more efficient."  
“What does it do?,” asked Cooper.  
“Good question.” Redford then flung open some curtains revealing a holographic screen. She turned it on and started commentating on the video.  
“We all wear and tear with time and none more so than our DNA. The byproduct of which are the signs of a ageing, which I am sure you are all familiar with, especially you, Ms Cooper. Well, what the official version of this does is that it repairs the DNA for you so that you can remain young for the rest of your life and never need to die."  
“So, Ms Redford, what do you propose we do with this?"  
“Ms Chan, I would like you to ratify this treatment for all. In fact, I would like to give to everybody around the world for free."  
“That's very generous of you, Ms Redford, but we can only have jurisdiction in the United States,” pointed out Cooper.  
“Yes, but where the United States leads the world follows. Besides, there are other benefits from this. For example, we can actually edit genes really quickly. Sex-change surgeries as well as hormonal transfers will become a thing of the past. I’m sure, Ms Chan, you already know the benefits of doing so?"  
“Ms Redford, how do you know about my history as a male?"  
“I make it my business to know everything."  
“Have you tested this?,” asked Ms Cooper.  
“Yes. In fact, you are looking at one success right now."  
“We do believe you but we'll still need to test it within American standards. Can you please send us a sample?"  
“How will you test this?”  
“Well, there will be tests on laboratory animals first…”  
Redford’s sudden fury was obvious. “Ms Cooper, you just simply have to trust me."  
“But…"  
“No buts, unless I have to keep you here. Last chance.”  
“Ms Redford, please do not be unreasonable…”  
“Henchmen, lock them away. I will need to make a few phone calls"

There was another good reason why Redford would rather not have her chips tested. There were a few other side effects which she would rather not reveal to hastily.

-§-

“Are you sure this is the last box to unpack, Mrs Unwin?"  
“Yes, deary. Ta."

It took a long time, far too long by Eggsy’s standards, for his mother to move out from her bastard of a boyfriend to Eggsy’s place. Dean went beyond just being an inattentive partner; he was downright abusive. So it was with great pleasure and honour that Eggsy himself had managed to defeat quite soundly Dean himself and his ragtag gang of no-gooders until they grovelled on the ground and cried for Mercy and Mother. This was after Dean had the audacious cheek to forbid Michelle Unwin from moving with her son. Eggy’s half sister Daisy was welcome of course, even when she did not have the best of fathers.

“Ma! Why’s Jay Dee’s face so flat?"  
“I dunno. Eggsy?"  
“Day-day, J.B here is a pug, which means this particular doggy is born to be lee-ddle and cute. Hence the flat face."  
“Nancy? Why so big?"  
“To be strong and protect the weak, like a knight."  
“He’s talking posh now, like m’late hubby” said Ms Unwin to Charlotte. “What happened?"  
“Did you know what your husband was?"  
“Someting dangerous."  
“Interesting. Anyway, I guess this is what happens when you admire your mentor so much you start copying him.”  
“Who’s his mentor?"  
“A Kingsman tailor. In fact, Eggsy here is now an apprentice there which is why he is more than well able to afford this house."  
“I n’vare heard that one before."  
“Bit of an exclusive club. As a fellow apprentice I can inform you that we operate in Savile Row and our suits start from two thousand pounds.” 

Charlotte never found lying easy. Instead she had to stick to versions of the truth, abridged and framed in a way so that it was technically the truth but not quite. She longed to tell Ms Unwin that it was Harry that saved Eggsy from the wrath of Dean all those months ago at the pub, and how Harry had been looking after Eggsy as somehow an apology to Eggsy’s father, all those years ago, when he saved Harry’s life. What she was not so keen on was breaking the news, eventually, that Eggsy had been following Harry like a lovestruck puppy and goodness knows where the relationship could be heading. Of course Ms Unwin would not care that her son was going out with an older man, but the person who indirectly killed her husband? 

The last box contained mementoes. It was the most precious box in the world for Ms Unwin, covered in silverly green paper decorated with birds and with a brass lock on it. It was one of the last gifts that Mr Unwin ever left her. 

“I nev’r thaght I can bring them out again.” “Them” in reference to the many photographs in silver frames taken when Eggsy’s father was still alive, each wrapped carefully in tissue paper. There was a sweetheart’s photo, a wedding photo, a baby photo of Eggsy, family portraits, days out in the park. Mrs Unwin took then out one by one, gave them a quick polish, and set them carefully around the living room. Finally, she took out the biggest one of them all, carefully unclothed it, and gave it a kiss. It was a portrait of a man, leaning on a pillar outside a country house, laughing. There was a huge crack in it, made by a human fist. “Dean was a mad jealous dog. He hated mentions of m’ hubby. Should've seen it as a sign. Should’ve ran away then.” A tear rolled down her eye. “Should’ve, should’ve, should’ve. But I cannat change the past. I could only change now. Do you know m’ biggest regret? A colleague of m’hubby’s, one of the last people he saw, told me my Tim died bravely. He off’ed help. I refus’d and scream’d for m’hubby back. But now, I want to say sorry and thank him."  
“What did he look like?"  
“Tall, brown hair, brown eyes, most lovely voice you ev’r heard. Perfect gentleman. Round my age. Wore specs."  
“Mrs Unwin, would you like to meet him again?"  
“Yeah, that’ll be nice. How’ll find him?"  
“I’m the daughter of Sherlock Holmes. This will be a piece of cake."

Note: the enemy, Redford, thought she could make the world better by killing everyone with genetic diseases. Wants to kill Lady Smallwood  
Charlotte saved by female Doctor. Telescopic heels. Percival: Eggsy, de Ganis: Charlotte. Galahad: Harry, Lancelot: Roxy. Roxy meets Roxanne- but how? All Kingsman knights get kidnapped apart from Roxy and Charlotte. Why? Because they were women. Redford wants to take over the world and to make it her own image. Eggsy’s mother gets the chips. Charlotte’s birthday- 15th July


	8. Start of darkness

Of course it would be a piece of cake. In fact, Charlotte knew who it was and all it took was a gentle questioning prod. Harry was a little surprised at the offer of dinner at Eggsy's place but he graciously accepted. And yes, he was also more than happy to tell Eggsy tales of his father’s exploits. In fact he already did. Charlotte was not surprised. Those two have been together for such a long time now that eventually they would get to that subject, she thought.

The food itself was probably the easiest factor in the whole equation. Charlotte already had a lot of practise hosting dinner parties because she already invited her parents and brother over to her place many times. Neither Sherlock nor Molly knew how to cook but Mrs Hudson took the liberty of teaching Charlotte and William instead. After all everybody agreed it was a very important skill…and a very popular one. It was very easy to make friends if you kept on feeding them the moistest of cakes and the most tender of steak. In fact, Charlotte positively insisted on cooking that evening so that Ms Unwin could get a rest for once from looking after anything. Ms Unwin thought that Charlotte was the kindest girl in the world for doing that but in reality it was less innocent than that. In fact, the Kingsman organisation was under high alert so having Charlotte cook was a safety precaution.

It all started the day after Eggsy’s mother moved in with Eggsy. Charlotte had just got to work at Savile Row when she noticed that the people were more tense than usual. The shopkeeper was standing ridged- unusual for his advanced age. Then she saw Merlin walk downstairs.

“You're out of your little technological haven so this has got to be serious."  
“Yes."  
“What is it?” Charlotte said in a more serious tone. “It has something to do with the disappearances?"  
“Yes."  
Up until now the ‘disappearances' were only a minor event in Charlotte’s life. It was a slight annoyance though because Eggsy and Charlotte had not had their Initiations yet and don’t quite feel like a proper Kingsman Knight. The graduation of sorts kept on getting delayed because various dignitaries had ‘more important matters’ they would not disclose- until now. As usual though Merlin had managed to find out about it because disappearances tended to cause disquiet in the surveillance world. He could not find the finer details but he knew, from the pattern of fellow spies’ behaviour, that very important people were vanishing at an alarming rate.  
“Come to the Table now."

The Table was the meeting place of Kingsman knights in an upstairs room in Savile Row. Usually this meant a bit of teleconferencing as Knights were flung around the world with their duties so a hologram of their beings, projected onto smart glasses, sufficed in case of their absence. Not so in emergencies. This time, every seat was filled and each Knight was present in person. Arthur, as usual, was at the head of the table.  
“Last time we were fully gathered, it was because of Redford. This time is most likely no different. Merlin, the distress message, if you may."  
“4th July, at 07:00 GMT, an emergency message from MI-6. It so reads: United States Secretary of Health and Human Services and Deputy AWOL for a week as of now. Strong connections to Panacea- they were having dinner with her when disappeared. Help appreciated."  
A quiet, and then adjustment of seats. Galahad was the first to speak.  
“If it took them so long to ask for help, then they must have exhausted all other options and some more. Who else is missing?"  
“The health ministers from several countries, including Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Germany,” answered Merlin.  
“Why did they not come to us?”  
“Good question, Gaheris. Problem is the kidnappings happened in such a short space of time that everybody thought they could solve the problem themselves."  
“They gave up so easily?” Kay drew up to his full height. He overshadowed Merlin and stared at all the Knights. Everybody leaned back. “They gave up so easily? By Lord’s everlasting mercy the Secret Services are getting lazy. There is something else behind this. I call a conspiracy!"  
Galahad already by then rubbing his eyes in frustration. “David, sit down. Silly theories will not help the people who were actually kidnapped."  
“Besides,” added Merlin, “several secret agents were again killed."  
“Which includes two of our own,” muttered Geraint (real name: Benjamin)  
“We need a plan. A much better one than last time, admittedly. Any ideas?” Arthur asked, desperately.

-§-

Flights would have to be arranged, of course, and technology mustered up. 72 hours later was the second break-in attempt at Redford’s place, this time in Queenstown. The mid-summer evening gave everything a lovely pink sheen, from the snow-capped peaks of the Southern Alps to the rifle that Geraint was carrying. By then the bulletproof armour was annoying him and the gas mask was stifling. But they had already exhausted all the ways of getting near Redford, except for the most ridiculous and quite frankly the most cliched- pretending to be one of her bodyguards.

The premise was set. Geraint, travelling under the pseudonym of Benjamin Frankard (no, not Franklin!) was an unemployed mercenary of high calibre and was more than happy to take a high security job guarding one of the leading industrialist of her day from…you know, jealous competitors and the like. And could he start today? Why not, his credentials were solid, he could have an unimportant role. Besides, he could fill in one of the guards recently killed (by Geraint, no less, as part of preparations) as a temporary role.

This annoyed Redford a lot. No, annoyed was not the word. No, annoyed is for when one encountered a slight inconvenience that does not alter the state of things. No, Redford was livid.

The first thing she did was find whoever hired this Frankard person and kill her. Such scum were almost not worth the bullet, she reasoned, but it was the cheapest way of disposing vermin.

The second thing she did was to find the Franklin/Frankard person and to interrogate him. Luckily for him, Redford’s sensibilities were beyond torture. Unluckily for everyone else, she had much more refined methods.

“Have you ever seen this before, Frankard? Or shall I say, Geraint?"  
“Yes. In fact, I believe that my mother used to use this to drain the peas."  
It did in fact look like a colander with the holes covered up with nodes of wire. Connected to the bunch of wires was a computer that looked more like it belonged to the modern age- very self-contained, stylish, and powerful. Just like Redford herself. The colander on the other hand looked as if it came out of somebody’s backyard workshop. Oh well, early days yet for such technologies.  
“Never mind Frankard. All I need for you to do is fall asleep, and then I will plop this on top of your head."  
“What does it do?"  
“Does it matter? Oh, I suppose I can tell you. It is a mind reader, you see. I can see what you are thinking, though I tend to find it more effective when you are asleep. Have a nice nap."

By then Redford had applied a patch on Geraint that contained some very powerful sleeping drugs. It was less than a minute before he blacked out. All Redford needed to do now was place the kaboodle on his head and find out everything she needed to know about him…

-§-

The dinner was nice for all involved. It was a normal stew though and not alike the lab-grown miracles shown off by Redford. What was definitely more interesting was how Eggsy acted around Harry. Harry was rather unconsciously more fond of talking about Eggsy’s exploits around the tailor shop rather than Eggsy’s father. Eggsy for his part constantly blushed and laughed will slapping Harry’s arm. Charlotte was very conscious of her worry of what Ms Unwin would think, until she saw Michelle (they were all on first-name basis by ten o’ clock) laughing along with them and showed off all of Eggsy’s baby photos. Daisy was alternating between laps of her most favourite adult of the moment until she settled in Harry’s and promptly fell asleep.

“Oh, beddy-by time for you my little one,” cooed Harry.  
“Nah!"  
“But you fell asleep."  
“Tell me a story!"  
“Only if you go to bed,” encouraged Eggsy.  
“Hmmm. Arite"  
“Tell her about Mr Pickle, Harry,” asked Eggsy.  
The two of them lead Daisy to bed. This left Michelle with her glass of red wine and a mischievous twinkle and Charlotte in the living room.

“I like him. Harry."  
“Everybody does. They say that everybody who met him has a crush on him."  
“Did you?"  
“No. Somehow I was the only exception. Surprising that he chose Eggsy though."  
“Nah, dear, no choice yet. Well, not officially."  
“What do you mean?"  
“I know the looks of love, dear. Eggsy’s fallen for ‘em and Harry’s same but Harry doesn’t knew."  
“What do you…oh, I get it."  
“Eggsy’s only ever had girlfriends. This’ll be interesting."

-§-

Meanwhile, back at the HQ, Merlin was running frantic. He had lost contact with Geraint. Goodness knows if he was dead or not 


	9. And we all fall down

The next day Redford got up on stage and announced to the world her intention of saving it. The way she was going to do it and the way everyone else thought she would use was markedly different though.

Nevertheless the product launch was as successful as one could want it to be. Redford borrowed a few tricks from the late Steve Jobs and made the launch as public and yet as exclusive as possible. Physically only a few hundred guests were present in her London auditorium, ranging from the most prominent of journalists to the most infamous of celebrities. Technically hundreds of millions were watching it livestream on their devices. The presentation even included a live demonstration of her product in action. It was not very dramatic though because repairing DNA is never a rush job. Nevertheless, the world was hooked. It was helped by the fact that Redford promised the treatment free for everyone. When I mean everyone, I mean every man, woman, child, and quite literally worldwide. There would be shipping problems to remote areas, she admitted, but there would only be a maximum of a day’s delay, she promised. Launch date: 12th July.

Michelle was thinking about getting it as soon as it came out but Eggsy tried to warn her against it. Without sounding too suspicious, he told her the potential disadvantages but Michelle was quite adamant. Eggsy shook his head and pulled a card he thought he would never use: he had Merlin manipulate his mother’s life. It was all rather harmless though. All Merlin did was gently persuade to have Michelle work overtime so she did not have the chance to get the procedure. Of course it angered her, but not for long.

The next day came a strange knock in the early hours of the morning. Eggsy, nerves torn, checked the outside CCTV camera for identity of the mysterious caller. It was Dean.

“Eggsy,” said Dean straight into the camera, “I ned to talk, okay? I mean no 'arm, 'onest. Look, I dinant bring me boys!”  
Eggsy pressed the silent panic button. He ran to his sleeping mother, woke her up, and told her to get dressed with her rubber trainers and to do the same with Daisy.  
“Eggsy, I dinant why you ain’t responding but maybay this’ll. Yer mam needs to get the chip, right? Her health’ll improve and good stuff’ll ‘appen."  
“Hurry, Mum. And yes Daisy, do bring Flopsy along, but quick!” He then whistled for JB.  
“Eggsy, don’t bae rude. O’pen up!"  
A switch in the fireplace, third brick to the right. This opened up a small stairwell to the roof. “Follow me!"  
“Eggsy, I’m breakin’ in!” A gunshot could be heard. And another. And another. All of this drove Eggsy, his mother, and his sister faster and faster in the safety of the heavens.  
“Eggsy! Eggsy!” But the house was empty. There was nothing amiss- even the fireplace’s cheery flames danced as it would when it was well-fed. In fact, everything was so normal that Dean did not notice a dapper man in a tailored suit take aim with his umbrella and tranquillised him.

-§-

“How could this happen?” Charlotte was shocked when she heard from Harry after he had neutralised Dean. “I mean, he has a restraining order. He is definitely not allowed at Eggsy’s place! Surely even a dim-wit like him would respect it, lest they provoke the wrath of the police! And didn’t Eggsy soundly beat him up and his gang the other day?"  
“Charlotte, calm down. I have reason to believe that Dean did not have his full faculty."  
“What do you mean?"  
“He was controlled…"  
“Yes, I know what it means. I just don’t know how, that’s all."  
“Medical records show that Dean had one of Redford’s implants inserted yesterday."  
“Are you implying that Redford is mind controlling people now?"  
“Not implying. Stating."  
“Oh, god."

Charlotte had not felt so helpless before. For her 22nd birthday her somehow aunt the Prime Minister Lady Smallwood had invited her to Rosings to celebrate not because it was special but to make up for her absence in the previous one. This time the whole family was going to be there, including Molly’s parents and of course Sherlock’s as well. Charlotte was staying at Rosings a few days early to help plan and prepare her party.  
“Is there anything I can do?"  
“Stay where you are and pretend nothing is happening. Do try and prevent anyone you can from getting the implant though."  
“I don’t know if I can. Brian is pretty keen to get it because he is sick of hormone therapy and wants to stop his periods once and for all. And then there is the elder members of my family. Both my grandfathers long to play golf again and of course the women want to look young again. The list goes on."  
“Please try if you can. And who is that down the corridor?"  
“Aunty Harry. She wants to know where her wife is."  
“Never mind her. Try and act normally because goodness knows, I think Redford has surveillance on us now."

And how Charlotte tried. There were new people to be met- Aunt Irene, after many years overseas, her family, new cousins and family friends, etc. Most Charlotte resolved to love adamantly and this pained her, especially since most of them were lemmings, believing that Redford only had good intentions. If only they knew. Oh well, best to die as innocent lemmings. At least they won’t live with anguish. But this resolve grew harder and harder as more was being discussed and speculated about the implant until Charlotte excused herself and ran into her bedroom for a good cry.

There was a knock on the door. It was Sherlock and Mycroft.  
“Come in,” said Charlotte in-between sobs.  
Sherlock came up to his daughter and enveloped her. “Charlotte, is everything alright?."  
“Ask Uncle Mycroft. I cannot tell you anything."  
“I knew this might happen.” Mycroft sighed and sat down. “Sherlock, you must leave. Now."  
Sherlock stared at his elder brother but he obeyed. The unsettling glare continued after he closed the door though.  
“Charlotte, I apologise. Be rest assured you are assisting the situation."  
“How?"  
“Maintaining cover. It is a woefully under appreciated aspect of any mission."  
“But surely one doesn’t stop Redford by acting normal!"  
“I empathise with your situation. Therefore, we are trying to stop her."  
“But how?"  
“Through miles and miles of red tape. I have to admit though, it is a very unpopular policy."  
“Don’t bore me with the details. How effective is it?"  
“Not as much as you would like."  
“Oh boo!"  
Mycroft pursued his lips. “Charlotte, do lift yourself. There is nothing you can do."

-§-

Merlin rocked back and forth on his feet. He hated the words he was forced to speak. “Sir, we have an ultimatum."  
“Let me hear it,” came Arthur’s tired reply.  
The clipped tones of Redford came on. This time it was sharper, designed to chop her minions to their knees. “Gentlemen, this is your warning. Obey my instructions or else I will send my taskforce to enact the punishment you deserve. Many governments have by now tightly restricted the movement of my implants and I know you are the root, the cause, of this. Use your influence to reverse those regulations or else I will enact my justice on you."  
“She means revenge,” added Merlin before Arthur put up his index finger.  
“Considering your actions, you might have noticed that the people who benefited from my inventions are willing to pay me back. The number of then may be very small, but growing exponentially as I speak. If you care not for the common people, I also have someone no doubt very dear to you."  
The video then cut to a prison, where Geraint was sleeping soundly. Arthur covered his eyes with his left hand.  
“Do as I say,” said an unsettling voiceover, “or Geraint will also receive an implant. You have 24 hours to respond."

At least the message did not self-destruct. With the new fire bylaws the smoke would have wrecked havoc by activating the sprinklers. Not that Arthur would have noticed. He had other things in his mind.

“We will not obey,” was Arthur’s ultimatum.  
“Pardon me?"  
“I said we will not obey."  
“But sir, we have Geraint to save."  
“We have lost agents before. Sometimes it is a necessary sacrifice, to kill one person in order to save the rest. But we will grieve for him…his lost humanity…Benjamin…yes, we shall.” He then straighten himself. “Merlin, inform the others of her and my ultimatum. May the Lord bless you in your endeavours."  
“And your’s to, sir."


	10. How to disobey an order/Start of a siege

Charlotte couldn’t sleep that night. No, it was not because she was excited. She got over the excitement of presents at an admitted late age but she knew the cause was different. And so at five that morning she got up and decided to go off for a walk around the grounds. But before she could do so, she bumped into a fellow insomniac. Her beloved godfather John Watson was pacing the house as well waiting for the sun to rise. Somehow, Charlotte knew he was a perfect person to talk to.

“Hey Uncle John. Can’t sleep too?"  
“Mmmmmhmmm."  
“Nightmares?"  
“Mmmmm."  
“Me too. In fact, I know what is causing them in real life. Can you help?"  
“How?"  
“This is all an imaginary situation (John scoffed at this phrase, but knew what it meant. He heard it enough times in his military days.). Say you have been given an order, well-meaning, but you know, definitely, truly, absolutely, that it is an arse of an order and the morally underhand thing to do. What would you do?"  
“Disobey it."  
“Seriously?"  
“You said so yourself. An arse of an order."  
“Okay…what else should I know?"  
“You better also have a bloody good reason why you disobeyed."  
“Obvious."  
“Who gave you this order? Mycroft?"  
“Ummm…yes."  
“I’ll be careful. Last time Sherlock got into something Mycroft said not to we all deeply regretted it."  
“This is different."  
“If you say so."

Charlotte got dressed in her suit and packed a small valise. She checked her wallet. There was only £20 in it in cash. Not as much as she hoped, but it was enough. She only needed to go back to London anyway. She gently woke Nancy up and left Rosings without being detected. She hoped her family would not worry. It was tad bit rude, to leave your party before it even started, but at least she left a note. Mycroft can explain the rest.

It was a quick bicycle ride to the train station in the middle of town. There, she boarded the high speed mag-lev train straight to London. With her tailored suit and Nancy she looked like a rich country eccentric who could not be bothered with flying. Already half of her cash was taken up by the train fare. But this was not the biggest problem. She had only half an hour to work out how to move around London undetected.

London time and time again was in the record books for being the most surveilled city. Back in 2011 there was an estimate of 1.85 million CCTV cameras within Greater London. Since then the number had doubled to cover every alleyway, corner, and nook. Mycroft had his finger on every one of them and the satellites to boot. He was a virtual Hydra, with each of the snake’s eyes connected via a stream of ones and zeros. She put on her smart glasses and instructed it into masking mode. It will then superimpose new facial features onto Charlotte every half an hour, though this technique would not work long. It would only be effective for a day or so until Mycroft finds a new way to track her but that all she needed anyway. Besides, it was nice to have a safety net.

Nobody batted an eyelash as a smartly dressed young professional in a skirt (it was too hot for trousers) walked with her oak bicycle to ground level and amongst the smart city streets. Charlotte belonged there, though she stood out a little bit. Merlin’s tailoring made sure of that but Charlotte cycling like she was riding a high horse certainly did not hurt. She was a Queen amongst the midden.

So far so good. Now, she calculated she only had ten minutes inside her house. Anything more and Mycroft would be able to track her down. She turned into the street near Albert Square and stopped at number 43. Home sweet home.

After grabbing life essentials and a few hundred in cash (Charlotte kept that safe by hiding it throughout her body), she walked out with a minute to spare. Charlotte took the Tube not knowing what to expect. Surely someone within Kingsman would have contacted her by now to at least tell her the status and situation?

But before she could cycle into Savile Row, she heard a telephone box ring. Charlotte stopped. This was startling because there was not supposed to be a box in the first place. The advent of the mobile phone and later wearable technologies made them useless because why would you bother going into a poky little glasshouse when you have one on your wrist? But a few were left because they made for convent Wifi hotspots. Still, Charlotte had to laugh. Why would you want to contact someone though calling a public telephone? The wrong person could pick it up, sending sensitive information to the public space, or even worse, a spy. It was a cheesy cliché from old action films. Still…

Charlotte looked around. Everybody was minding their own business on either their screens or with each other. Nobody else seemed to have registered the ring. Oh, why not, concluded Charlotte as she propped up her bicycle, opened up the box, and grabbed the receiver.

“Hello?,” Charlotte said in her cheesiest action film-y voice.  
“Charlotte Sophia Holmes?"  
“Roxy?!"  
“Yes."  
“What happened? How did you know who I am?"  
“Second question first: Merlin managed to find a way to break into CCTV network around here. We are watching you on camera. First question will require a long explanation which, fortunately, I can give. Have you closed the door?"  
“Yes,” said Charlotte as she awkwardly shuffled into the box and slid the door shut.  
“Do sit down. This might take a little while."

-§-

It was by all means an end to a normal day. The threat was a little unnerving but by no means unusual. Roxy had been a Knight for less than half a decade but she had seem more threats than the total number of fingers and toes she had. She had made it a habit to write down each threat and the details of how it was resolved in a little green notebook she kept in a pocket. It might turn into a good book one day.

“Day 1, 13th July 2041, 20:00,” she wrote with an even and sweeping hand. “Redford no doubt has received our reply. I wonder what she is going to do now."

She was in her bedroom in the Kingsman headquarters. The charming countryside sunset had just ended and now everything was dimly lit in purple dusk. Roxy looked out the window and sighed.

“Everyday Eggsy is getting more openly affectionate with Harry and everyday Harry…”

She looked at what she had written, got out her personal diary (black and double the size), copied the sentence she had just written, and crossed it out in the green notebook. One does not mix business with pleasure. She slid the green notebook into her pocket and continued writing.

“…seems to be reciprocating it. Arthur does not subconsciously approve. Considering his old-fashioned previous century classist upbringing, this is to be expected. What was not expected is the same reaction from the other Knights. I guess it takes a little longer for enlightened views to reach the institutes which tradition is not only valued but strictly adhered to. This is not the first case I have witnessed. My dear Mother, from the nouveau riche technology industry in Nigeria, still gets flack for marrying my Father. Sometimes the criticism goes to him. He was of genteel poverty and Mother’s money saved the family fortunes. The term “gold digger” is thrown to him like dirt but I can tell first hand that it was true love that bought them together, not circum…"

A huge explosion ripped though the manor, shaking everything to the ground and threw Roxy into her desk. She looked around. The manor’s internal was miraculously still stable. Roxy grabbed her emergency bag, stuffed her diary inside, whistled for her startled poodle, and ran to the stairs. Of course the lifts would not be working but gravity is guaranteed to go down on Earth. Roxy took advantage of that and used her bag as a toboggan. Her dog was racing after her, with his four feet in the air. Hopefully they can reach the emergency bunker before the manor collapses.

And so it is through the Word of the Narrator to decree that they did, sliding amongst the dust of neoclassical marble statues and splinters of teak. She was the last one in and the massive steel doors gave her one final push before it shut and sealed itself. It was Harry that helped her up.

“Everyone alright?” she asked.  
“Not sure actually. Eggsy and his family are on the run and we were not able to contact him."  
“I think he has a better chance of contacting us now. And where’s Roxy?"  
“She is in Rosings as far as we can tell."  
“It is better that way. Now, can anyone please tell me how on Earth Redford managed to do this?"  
“Well…the computer technicians have been very naughty recently. They have once again not heeded our advice to close their French doors and that was how Redford’s team managed to get in. Needless to say the technicians have repented.” Roxy nodded and wondered how many graves they would need to dig for everybody, silly or not.  
“Well?"  
“Hmmm?"  
“What shall we do now?"  
“Why are you asking me? You have two decades more experience."  
“Nobody has experienced a break in at the Headquarters. No one, dead or alive. This is the very first one in our hundred and twenty-five year history."  
“Then I congratulate Redford. Being first at something must make herself proud."  
“Yes."  
“Where is everyone else? We may as well count our resources."  
“Good idea."

The basement complex was indeed designed for sieges such as this. It had enough resources to last the people there for a month but one cannot just bury one’s head in the sand. If they decided to stay out the whole attack then by the time they come out Redford would become the Empress of the World. They needed to escape from their fortress. This was unanimously agreed by the Knights with various degrees of enthusiasm.

“What is wrong with our escape chutes?,” asked Lamorak (real name: Peter)  
“Redford bombed them. She knows far too much about this place."  
“Does she know about this basement?"  
“No doubt. Luckily the metre thick reinforced concrete and steel doors seem to be holding up."  
“How about the secret tunnels?,” asked Bedivere.  
“What tunnels?,” was the unanimous voice.  
“You know, the ones built for priests to escape persecution."  
“Bedivere, this manor was built 300 years too late to have priest holes,” said Arthur with his face in his hand. This was going to be a long evening.  
“Yes, but what was on here beforehand?"  
“A cast…are you saying the tunnels might have been preserved?"  
“Not might. Is. I use them sometimes."  
Why does this explain more about you than it should, thought Arthur. Then aloud, “Can you lead them to us?"  
“Yes.” Another explosion rattled the floor. “But it will be a little risky."  
Merlin rolled his eyes.

-§-

“Bedivere, is that my red scarf?!"  
“Yes."  
“That’s my potpourri over there!"  
“Yes."  
“Bedivere, is that my…have you been stealing our processions?"  
“Yes, but only ones you no longer use."  
“Oh for God’s sake.” Every single Knight has seen within the various places in the tunnel one thing or another they thought they had misplaced or dropped. Who would have imagined there was a cat burglar amongst them? “Do you think we can find your real name amongst this rubbish pile?,” joked one.  
“Gentlemen and woman, please move on,” chided Arthur. "We can come back to the pound lat…what on Earth."

It was a room filled with cages, and inside each cage was a cat. Their collective purrs and meows were defending. It did not help that they were in a confined space with solid sound reflective walls. They were all miraculously clean and healthy-looking though.

“A literal cat burglar with a literal pound. God help us,” concluded Lancelot.  
“What’s your problem, lass? Even you complained about the feline problem,” replied Bedivere.  
“Yes, but there is a right way and a wrong way to do things."  
“Believe me, this is a better way."  
“No wonder why he forgot his name,” thought Lancelot. She then whispered to Galahad, “He’s the vice-Arthur. Arthur better make sure he outlives this doddery fool."  
“Quite. But this does not prevent Bedivere from being competent."  
“For some reason, I don’t quite believe you."

They soon reached near the entrance to the cave. Bedivere took out a powdered compact from his pocket, dusted some off, and blew. Little invisible fishing lines became clear-cut, small slivers of barely noticeable spider webs. “Just as I though,” Bedivere said. “I recommend you avoid the lines. They might be connected onto a bomb or something.

Each crossed one by one. This was until Kay, the last one, raised his foot, and accidentally disturbed a line. The world above them exploded. Sparks blinded their eyes and the noise of bombs and cracking rocks was deafening. One chunk was about to go for Kay until Galahad pushed him out of the way and knocked Galahad out instead. All the other rocks decided to block the entrance instead.

“Well, at least the bomb is defused.” said Bedivere.  
"Harry, are you alright?,” asked Lancelot. No response. “Harry? Haaarrryyy."  
By then Kay had already checked Galahad’s head wound and pulse. “He has a major concussion with blood loss. He’s dying."  
Lancelot straightened. “We must go back to base."  
“But my cats…"  
“Screw your cats, Bedivere. We have a dying man to save. Merlin, I’m afraid we must go for plan B."  
“What plan B?"  
“We wait for help, specifically de Ganis’s. She will come to us, but we have to get to her first. Can you hack the public phone system and CCTV?"  
“It won’t be the first time."  
“Right."


	11. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter came so late! I moved house and we did not get the internet sorted for a few days.

“So, why the telephone?,” asked Charlotte. “It would be easier to just call me on my mobile."  
“Charlotte, you have recently developed this rebellious streak. How am I supposed to be assured that you would not just run off in a hot-headed fashion and place yourself in danger? Just look at where you are!"  
“Point taken. But how about Eggsy? Should we tell him about Harry?"  
“Hmmm…Well, I guess there is no point hiding it but please, Charlotte, please empathise that Harry is alright. He will live."  
“Oh good, because I can see Eggsy running towards the shop. I’ll meet him at the roof."  
“Charlotte, please come back as soon as you can get him."  
“Okay."

Charlotte left the receiver hanging and had Nancy guard the telephone box. She climbed the sprouting up onto the roof and ran to Eggsy carrying JB in a tote bag.  
“Eggsy, what are you doing up here?"  
“Same I can ask of you."  
“I came up here to stop you and JB. We have a situation, you see, back at Headquarters. Where have you been anyway?"  
“I had to find a safe house for my family. Currently they are holed up in an anonymous hotel. I paid in cash and used Harry’s name."  
“You didn’t! Well then, that still does not explain why you are up here."  
“I’m avoiding the CCTV cameras. I don’t like taking any chances running away from Dean."  
“I heard about him. But trust me Eggsy, there are more important matters. I have Roxy on the public telephone down there and she would like to hear from the both of us."

They both cambered down. After deciding that having two humans and their respective dogs was too much for a public telephone Charlotte stepped out with Nancy but kept the door ajar to continue contributing to the conversation. There was a lot to take in, even after Roxy told the same story a second time. Then came the instructions: clear a corridor in which the Knights can escape from the estate, and keep in mind the invalid. It must be done with the most minimal of damage. By the time Eggsy hung up the receiver he was in a daze.

"So?" asked Charlotte.  
"How are we gonna do this?," was all he spluttered out.  
"Obviously not through the obvious way. We will need to take the mag-lev to Headquarters and find a way in. We only need to clear a corridor, Eggsy, not take down Redford's syndicate, stop freaking. But how many ways out of the bunker?"  
"One way in, one way out."  
"Are you sure? Because that would be bad bunker design. What if the entranceway collapses?"  
"Well, I 'ave considered…" He then smiled. "I have considered an alternative way before. There are a lot of air vents in which they can climb out of."  
"Stop here Eggsy. Who is dim enough to make air vents big enough to infiltrate?"  
"Not yet, but we can."  
"The logic still does not stack up. If they were infiltrateable, then someone would have done it by now!"  
"Only from the outside. If we had help from the inside however…"  
The two free Knights nodded at each other with the joy of understanding each other.

-§-

"Remind me how mad we are again?," muttered Eggsy over the hooting of the owls.  
"Not as mad as Redford. Taking over the world? What's wrong with her?," whispered back Charlotte.  
"At least we are lucky about the timing. The full moon's helpful."  
"Still, the lack of flashlights is disconcerting. How are they seeing?"  
"Maybe they are using night vision googles."  
"Maybe. Now, do we have the distractions ready?"  
"Ready. Fetch, Nancy and JB!"

The drone flew a few centimetres away from the dogs' noses. It was Charlotte's job to guide the drone near the guards so the dogs would bound towards them. This provided a very effective distraction. For five minutes or so the dogs bounded after the drone while the guards ran after them, trying to figure out whether such a merry chase was worth it. After all, dogs do accidentally run free in the countryside. But the decision was soon made for them. Charlotte lead the dogs and the drone to a thick part of the forest where no human can run into, and back to her.

In the meantime Eggsy had located the air hole, uncovered it, unscrewed the grating, and passed down instructions in a little bottle. He hoped there was someone on the other side who could make out what the plan was. He then replaced everything to where it was, so that no one else could find it again, and ran back to their hiding place. 

Meanwhile a slim bottle passed through the metal pipe. It banged at a couple of corners and almost stopped at a few curves but gravity did not fail them. Soon, it stopped with an almighty crash on the inside grating. It woke Merlin up.

"What?" What happened? What is that object in the air vent?," was his first thoughts.  
He unscrewed the grating and then the bottle itself. When he read the first sentence he was shaken awake. When he finished reading it he was ready to wake the world. It was a revolutionary idea that will save everybody…but only to Merlin

"Merlin, do you need to see a counsellor? Are you sure confinement had not made you cuckoo?," was Roxy's first reaction when she heard the plan.  
"Except I know it will work. The pipes are made of aluminium, which has a relatively low melting point. We can heat up the metal hot enough to soften but not melt, and use stents to expand the pipe. It will not be big enough to walk in but we can crawl."  
"Oh and you forgot about one other thing. Harry."  
"We'll get him in a self-propelling pod."  
"A self-properlling pod?"  
"I was developing this pod for life-threatening situations. It can transport injured people to safer places. The latest prototype uses nanoballs on the outer casing like wheels. It does need human input though."  
"Where is it?"  
"Here in this bunker, actually. I have no other place for it."  
“One more thing: was this Eggsy’s idea?"  
“No. All he did was give details on Redford’s guards."  
“Good."

Merlin and Tristan (real name: Luke Gilmore) got to work with the stent robot. Everyone else helped as much as they could, which consisted of either gathering materials or sleeping to conserve energy. Once that was done it was the matter of expanding the vents, which took a few hours. By the time it reached the entrance and dropped back down to the bunker the sun was peeping behind the forest in the east.

“Rise and shine Harry. I am not too sure if you can hear this but it would be really nice if you can wake up right now.” Roxy stroked Harry’s hair and felt the sandpaper stubble that was starting to show. “Come on Harry. It is not just me you have to wake up for. There’s the rest of the Knights. And Eggsy. You must never forget about Eggsy. Please."

But there was no hope for a reply. There was a slight chance that Harry could hear what she was speaking but there was no way of knowing without specialist equipment. Roxy sighed and gingerly folded Harry into the egg-shaped pod. She turned on the life support, and wheeled it out to their last entrance.

“Knights, here are your orders.” calmly announced Arthur. “You are to climb into the vent one after the other. Every fifteen minutes one of you will go out and run towards the forest where Eggsy and Charlotte are waiting for you. You will see them as they will signal to your glasses where they are. The timing must be exact because the window of opportunity is short when the guards changeover and therefore not notice your movements. Safety is paramount here. We cannot afford to loose any more Knights."

Everyone nodded. And so at exactly seven o’clock the first knight came out. Fifteen minutes later the next one, and then the next one, until it was only three left: Roxy, Merlin, and Harry.

“The pod works really well but what are to do when we are on the grass?"  
“We wil just have to carry it like a stretcher"  
“I suppose so."

Just as they came out of the vent two large and burly men cam out of the bushes. It was Kay and Tristan. “We thought you might need some help,” explained Kay. “Spot on, thank you,” answered Roxy. “Now, we all better sprint."

The plan worked without a hitch, which was surprising. In the privacy of the deep woods the Knights discussed what to do next. Until Charlotte remembered something. “Take Harry to Downing Street."  
“Downing Street? But how does that help?,” asked Arthur.  
“They have a private hospital there for ministers and other people with sensitive jobs. I can just say I am the niece of Mycroft Holmes and they’ll let me in."  
“Lovely. Now, as for transport. The nearest vehicle is in a safe house at least fifteen minutes away."  
“Sir, I hope you are not offended when I took the liberty of calling for a helijet exactly twenty minutes ago,” replied Charlotte. "It is a five minute walk away in the neighbouring estate."


	12. Redford's Victory

Characters do need good luck from time to time and unfortunately our leading lady’s streak has just ended. If you do not like angst then I suggest that you skip till the happy ending. Yes, there will be a happy ending. Spoilers, sweetie!

The Holmes name grew only in strength in the last hundred years so it was not surprising that when Charlotte walked into 10 Downing Street with a few friends she was escorted into the visitor’s room. This turned out unnecessary as there was an attendant as soon as one could click one’s fingers. She asked for Harry to be admitted to the private hospital and given intensive care. The attendant nodded and soon Harry was on the state of the art life support bested only by its successors. Charlotte then asked if the War Room was free.

“No."  
“We are not in the state of war. Why not?"  
“Because Miss Charlotte, we secretly are."  
“Against whom?"  
“The meeting is halfway done. Do you all wish to join?"  
Eleven more people to join an already packed room. Oh dear. “What is your name?"  
“Ms Smith."  
Ah, a secret agent. “Ms Smith, are you allowed to tell me who are we fighting against?"  
“Who are the Kingsman presently fighting?"  
“Just a person. Kana Merrick Redford."  
“Then be assured that we are now your allies."  
“Thank you. Is there another private room we can use?"  
“Follow me."

The room was satisfactory for their needs. After sweeping the room of bugs, the nine Knights (they sent the poor Knight Gerald to sit through the War meeting to see if there was any useful information), Arthur, and Merlin sat down for a meeting.  
“Our meeting has two objectives,” started Arthur. “One: rescue Geraint. Two: recapture HQ. Which one takes priority?"  
After much debating, no consensus could be reached until Merlin pointed out that no heavy work against Redford could be done without the equipment at Headquarters. Thus the objectives were reversed.  
“Knowing Redford, she prefers to be near the action. She is not quite a luddite, but there is still an aversion to transmission technology. Therefore, she is more likely to control her attack the traditional way: leading the charge. I will not be surprised if we find her amongst the carnage,” started Roxy. Everyone nodded, because she was the only one left that had any direct contact with Redford and still communicative.  
“There are only nine of us that are fit to fight,” stated Eggsy. “Therefore, we should not directly fight, but find Redford and kill her."  
“Good idea,” replied Arthur. “Except we would rather capture than kill. We need to find Geraint after all."  
“Poor Benny. I wonder how he’s doing,” thought everyone. They were all rather fond of him.  
The meeting continued for an hour, in which all the remaining Knights agreed on a plan. They would all leave at exactly midday to recapture their castle. In the meantime they all have personal business to attend to.  
“Me and Roxy are checking up on Harry. You coming?,” asked Eggsy.  
“Soon,” replied Charlotte. “I just got a message from my family begging for me to come home. Oh, I just remembered. It’s my birthday."  
It had been an exact year since she was selected. A year before she had felt ennui, a longing for a fabulous future that was gifted to her brother. Well, she had it. But at what cost? A dead body, a dying friend, worried parents, and a world in danger. Be careful what you wish for.  
“Many happy returns,” said Eggsy. “You alright?"  
“As far as I can be, I suppose. Shall we go?"

-§-

Redford was sitting in a plush silk divan. The room she was in was covered in oil paintings from the Regency era. Those bore her. It was always either of a lady with huge curly hair and muslin dress in a landscape setting, or a man with silk suits in a landscape setting. Or a child in muslin dress in…you get the point. All the furniture was also from the Regency era, with everything having curved feet and curved curves. Honesty, what is the point of all those curves? Redford preferred things straight and to the point. On her lap was a laptop with a large red button on the screen.

This probably infuriated more than the outdated and tasteless decor. It was so clichéd. Why must a button to every large bomb be large and red? After this, she thought, she better get engineers to properly develop software more to her taste. This one had binged watched Bond films between working on software for her. She usually does a good job but obviously allowed for film tropes to infiltrate her mind. 

There were people out on the lawn in the next property. They were dressed in either muslin dresses or silk suits not too unlike the paintings that surrounded Redford and they were in a landscaping setting having lunch. The modern day painters (otherwise known as photographers) were setting up nearby. Redford was admittedly getting a little hungry. She wondered where the Kingsmen were. They should be here by now…

-§-

Last checks were made. Merlin gave them each one more gadget to send them off. "This is an invisibility cloak. It is rather crude though so make sure you are quite a distance from the human eye. It should evade most CCTV cameras at least."  
"So that was the mad dash around London was about. I thank you," said Roxy with a peck on the cheek for Merlin. All the other Knights did the same as tradition would allow when they were extra appreciative of something. Except for Eggsy.  
"Must I kiss you?"  
"Only if you want but I will be disappointed if you do not."  
"I was only having you on. Besides, I need the practice."  
"One more thing," added Merlin after the laughter subsided. "There will be no wireless communication of any sort. So each of you will be acting independently on each floor. Good luck."

Charlotte was to look after the first floor. She had to climb discretely up there from the outside, her cloak almost slipping off several times. But it did not and Charlotte managed to reach the window without being detected. Her crystal necklace, which was dim when she was at the edge of the Headquarters estate, was blazing now. But Charlotte knew she must persevere. Perched on the still she got out her electronic key to open the window lock. She opened the window and slipped though. 

The hallway was eerily quiet. Charlotte could only see in mirror reflections some guards pacing around the bigger corridors of the manor. And so Charlotte glided though until she heard some tapping sounds. It was from what was the Drawing Room but everyone called it the Regency Room (or just The Reg) because all its decor was from the Regency Era. Nobody knew why but it had something to do with the last Ladyship wanting a piece of history or somethingrather.

Charlotte opened the door a sliver, and peeked inside. It was Redford on her laptop, co-ordinating her evil plan no doubt. Charlotte opened the door wider, slipped through, closed the door, drew out her gun, and shot Redford with a tranquilliser.

Except the little arrow shot though her and impaled itself on the divan. Redford turned to Charlotte and smiled. "I have been expecting you."

The explosion this time was blinding. It left a fireball from the room so large nobody failed to notice. 

Charlotte laid there, with half-closed eyes and ears ringing so loud she almost could not hear herself think. She felt something wet beside her mouth. The second to last thought was how realistic the hologram was. The last one was bewilderment as she did not recall when they installed a blue telephone box in the room.


	13. Recovery for all

The ringing died down in pitch and intensity. Charlotte opened her eyes to find Chris and William staring at her. William had a huge smile of relief on his face whilst it was hard to tell what Christ was thinking. The canine face never helped in that department. 

"Hey Will. Hey Chris. What gender are you?"  
"You humans and your genders. When will you ever know that it does not matter?"  
"Still…"  
"Fine. I'm a female today."  
"Ta. Will, where am I?"  
"In the TARDIS's infirmary."  
"What time is it?"  
"How am I suppose to answer that?"  
"Oh…can I have some water?"  
"Here." Will then gently poured some water into Charlotte's mouth and lifted her chin. "Go back to sleep, won't you. You will need the energy. Besides, you have all the time in the universe."  
"Heh," said Charlotte before she drifted back to sleep.

The next time she woke up it was to the stern face of the Doctor himself. "Why did I bother."  
"Hey Doc. Bother with what?"  
"Giving you that crystal. It was an expensive bugger, you know that? Why did you not use it?"  
"I had the world to save. My home planet. Surely you understand?"  
That statement hit the Doctor in the gut, but it had the right effect. "I understand."

Charlotte's only measure of time was her watch. Nevertheless she understood Time had no meaning aboard the TARDIS. If she could travel to any time and space does anything matter? Apparently it does.

It was four Earth days after she was rescued (this was according to her very accurate watch) did Charlotte get up for the first time. She plodded around the infirmary exploring the various machines and testing what they did, which worried everyone a lot. By the seventh day Charlotte was exploring the various nooks and crannies of the TARDIS. Something had to be done.

"Right lass, time to go home," announced the Doctor.   
"I suppose so. Thanks for rescuing me by the way."

But where and when? There were limited places to go without either causing a paradox or confused minds. The Doctor wanted to keep the TARDIS a secret after all so he did not want people looking for it. Then Charlotte had a brain wave.

"Redford must be in the neighbouring estate with a windowed room. That was the only way her signal-short-range radio- for the bombs could go through because if she did it in any other way we would have intercepted it. Also, she would want to see her plan work."  
"So?," asked the Doctor  
"Drop me off at the time just when I am about to climb up to the window."  
"I cannot. I need to drop you off when I just picked you up, otherwise there will be a paradox. Two Charlottes! How now. No, I need to drop you off where you came from otherwise the universe will explode from confusion."  
"Then can you please drop me off where Redford is?"  
"Close. I will drop you off at the hallway near it. Give my love to Nancy."  
"You can speak Dog?"  
"I can speak all the languages there every is, was, and will be. By the way, the language is not called Dog. It is called (insert noise of the Doctor making a strange low yap)."  
"Oh, is that right? I wonder how Nancy is right now. She has been with the other dogs back at Westminster. Did you know that dogs can climb aluminium pipes?"  
"Yes, yes Charlotte, I know many things. Do you have everything?"  
After last hugs and goodbyes with her brother Charlotte stepped out of the blue door back into her world.

The Doctor was as good as his word. This time the corridor was much lighter in quality, with teak instead of oak and many skylights on the roof. Charlotte walked, listening again for the fated sound of typing. She felt her necklace warming up and her watch realigning itself. On the outside window she could see people in fancy costume biting into small sandwiches, their white muslin and silk suits making them not unlike elegant ghosts. Charlotte smiled and wondered if they knew the true nature of their eminent guest. 

She stopped at the end of the corridor. Of course it would be this room, she thought. It was the closest room to the Kingsman estate and Redford probably wants to see the fruits of her labour. Suddenly, she heard a large explosion.  
Something else snapped in Charlotte's mind as she ran to the end opened the door, and threw herself at the lady.

There was a scuffle. Charlotte managed to grab Redford's neck and almost snapped it. Redford rolled over tried to stab Charlotte with a hidden knife a couple of times but Merlin's tailoring saved Charlotte. This freed Redford who then took a step backwards to grab Charlotte's umbrella. Charlotte then tried to disable Redford with her elbow but missed. Redford responded by trying to knock Charlotte in the head. This earned her a punch to the throat by Charlotte, who then followed it up with an electric shock with her singlet ring. Redford froze, and collapsed to the floor.

Charlotte checked Redford's pulse. It was slow and weak but at the same time quickening and gaining in strength. Redford was repairing herself at a superhuman rate. Charlotte tranquilised Redford and then looked around herself, trying to find a way to contact the other Knights . She looked at the set up set for the hologram, and had an obvious idea.

-§-

Roxy heard the explosion, and froze. Who was killed this time? Who was murdered, this time, by that sick…

But there was no use questioning. Roxy picked up her pace and set her face to stone-cold anger. She methodically checked every door in the second-floor corridor until she heard a strange voice.  
"Guys? Guys? de Ganis here. I kind of need some help here. Uuugggh…code blue? Yes, code blue."

Roxy ran up to one of the rooms and opened the door. It was Charlotte! But, it cannot be…  
"I am currently at the Placitude Manor next door on the second floor (which, by the way, is the centre floor of the manor. Redford chose it so she could see the full extent of her damage) in the East Wing and I have Redford tranquillised next to me." Charlotte's ponytail then disappeared, as if it was moving out of a frame. It was therefore, Roxy realised, a hologram. 

"I'm in the room with the pale blue curtains. I hope you can see me now waving at all of you (and indeed Roxy can through the window after she had set her glasses to magnify). Can you all uh, come as soon as you can?"

And they all did. Ten minutes later a more motley crew of nine knights gathered around Redford to either carry her body or her equipment. The explosion was soon explained with the arrival of the much-carboned Bedivere. Apparently the bomb had the dishonour to explode in his presence in the laundry room. Luckily he smashed through a thin partition into the linen cupboard, but his old body was not what it was. The estate owners were a bit miffed, not because of their untimely intrusion, but rather the hostess accidentally allowed a criminal in their midst. Nobody had the heart to tell her that her husband was a small-time bank fraudster.


	14. Death comes to Headquarters

There were of course some very important things to do for the Knights and they had to be done in the right order. Firstly, they had to put Redford on ice. Secondly, they had to disarm all the bombs. Thirdly, they had to get on with life. Especially Charlotte, as her birthday party had started an hour ago.

"Yes, I'm safe Dad and yes, it was vital for me to save the world. Dad, listen to me. I Had. To. Save. The. World. Yes, I know, it is not the best of excuses but come on! Yes, I know about Brian's surgery on Wednesday and I know people used all their favours to come to my party. But Dad, why must we have it on a Monday? Oh yes because it is a Holmesian tradition that one must have their birthday party on their birthday. But Dad, surely between Uncle Mycroft and the Right Honourable Aunty Lizzie one can arrange for people to be free this Sunday? I know Brian will be there Dad, even if he is bed-bound and looks like a mummy. Yes Dad, I'm still busy saving the world. I will be free by Sunday, promise. Besides, when are you ever this worried over William, this is unfair. Okay, okay…Does Aunty Sally still call you Freak? Dad, you know its an affectionate nickname. Okay, okay, its slightly offensive but she means well, okay? Wait, pardon Brian, what are you saying? Yes, do donate your ovaries to science but please don't allow them to make fantastical creatures out of it, okay? And get off the phone, I'm talking to Dad!"

Saving the world means finding a way to disable the chips so that the people who were implanted with them do not turn into "mindful zombies" as Roxy drily termed it. That was easily done. Merlin had developed a scanner to install the 'antidotal counterchip', as he liked to call it, into a scanner so that all they needed to do was to point the scanner at someone and the chips would self-destruct. Simple.

The second task was arguably less important and infinitely times more hard. Geraint/Benjamin was still kidnapped and now it was time to find out where he was. The most obvious method was to bribe all of her henchpeople for information. Too obvious.

"As I said before, I hid him myself, I look after him myself, I even take food down there myself. Therefore, you should free me as only I know where he is. I expect little Ben is ravenous by now."  
It was Tuesday evening, the 24th hour into her continuous interrogation. Roxy was exhausted and even Kay/David was feeling under the weather. They tried talking about her childhood, her medical advances, even her butterfly collection trying to work out where she would hide a hostage. No clue still. They even confiscated her clothes just for a hint of unique dust or a piece of dirt that pointed in the right direction. Since then Redford got her suit back and she was poised, like an evil Empress. Roxy cocked her head. "Even you started caring for him."  
"Why not? He is still a little boy. A little like Dorian Gray I suppose. Yes, very much like Dorian Gray. I suppose he has not been in this business long?" Redford clicked her tongue. "I think it is about high time he lost his innocence. Well I suppose that makes me Lord…"  
Before anyone could react, David had his huge hands encircling Redford's neck. He was starting to squeeze, but Redford pulled him away. Redford coughed. "And you must be Basil."  
"No. I am his uncle."  
"Fair enough. And Roxanne, what about you? Just who are you in this little story of ours?"  
"This is not the work of Oscar Wilde."  
"But of course it is! But you are right, this is not quite Dorian Gray material."  
"If you say so, then this is The Importance Of Being Ernest. For you, of course."  
"Ernest about what? About how stupid you all are? About how old-fashioned your traditions are? About how stuck you are in the Victorian era?"  
"Yet you are repulsed by technology."  
"Only the ones pertaining to communication. You see, I am very selective in what I do. I take the best of both worlds, the old and the new."  
This was not going anywhere. Actually it was. To Hell, Michigan."  
Roxy sighed. Harry was much better at interrogating, she thought. He could have smoked her out half a day ago.  
"Redford," asked Roxy one more time, "what do you want?"  
"What do I want? The question is, what do you want?"  
"This is about you, not us, right now Redford."  
"Funny how you now call me that. A few months ago you were more than happy to call me Kana. When did our relationship turn that sour?"  
"There was only air between us."  
"Funny that. What do I want? Well, I suppose it is similar to what you want, is it? A better world?"  
"I cannot deny that."  
"Believe it or not, me too. I want a world where everyone can live peaceful happy lives, at one with themselves, nature and others."  
"And how does the chips achieve this?"  
"My dear child! (Roxy and David winced at this, for it was obvious Roxy and Redford were born within a few months of each other) I pity you your narrow views in life. The chips will enable people to live long and happy lives with empathy for all. I suppose it is the same for you, except you want little Ben back."  
Roxy got a call on her glasses so she excused herself from the room. She came back a few minutes later. "About Ben? Not any more."  
"What? Do you want him to stave?"  
"That will not be necessary."

-§-

There is one thing that Charlotte did not like, and that was an apparent lost cause. Many people had started regarding Geraint as one but Charlotte would have none of it. 

"Oh come one! He must be in a basement somewhere in one of Redford's lairs! Or in a place only Redford can access."  
"We are all searching that now but so far negative."  
"How though are you?"  
"We are doing our best Charlotte."

And so it went on for almost a day and a night. Teams of hundreds around the globe, auxiliaries of the Kingsman organisation, were busy scanning and mapping out potential little places where Ben might be. But they all came up negative.

"'I hid him myself, I look after him myself, I even take food down there myself.' That mantra's driving me crazy," complained Eggsy when they were watching the interrogation.   
"Yes, I have to agree with you. It's like an earworm, but worse," replied Charlotte. "I hid him myself, I look after…I look after him myself…"  
Charlotte leapt form the chair and almost pushed Eggsy off as well. "We have been so stupid! The answer is right in front of us and yet we refuse to acknowledge it!"  
"Hm?"  
"Wherever Redford goes, Ben goes! Therefore, he must still be at Placitude Manor!"

There was a rush to see Merlin and to explain Charlotte's brain wave. Luckily for all they were at the Headquaters so all they needed to do was to run next door with the rest of the Knights and some equipment. Again they had to explain to the hostess (Charlotte soon learnt she was the Countess of Platitude, hence the manor's name) what happened and what they needed to do. The Countess then immediately ordered her servants to help. "Just the basement, alright? The places where one cannot receive a phone signal at least."

"You know," mused Bedivere, "that I think this place has a priest hole. Charlotte, Eggsy, do you mind coming with me?"

Except the priest hole was no longer a priest hole. It became a massive hidden safe in the chapel that not even the Countess knew about.  
"Ah, that must be Perkin's. Do you want me to get him?"  
"Nah, just call off security when I'm done with this," muttered Bedivere. "By the way, when do you think this was installed?"  
"Let me think…must have been three years ago, when we were renovating this place. That would be the only time I would not have noticed this being put in."  
"Cover your ears, lasses." And Bedivere detonated his strategically placed dynamite disks. The door opened with a hush. Bedivere opened the safe to find bars and bars of real, solid gold. The Countess, eyes agape, stood there for a while, remembered who she was, and then left them to fend of security.   
"Ben? Can you hear me?" called Charlotte.  
"Mmmm! Mmmm!"

The first thing Ben did when he was untied was to leap up and shake Eggsy's hand. "Eggsy, I am sorry that I underestimated you. I thought you were just a…a…" But Eggsy stopped him. "I understand. You are not the only one."  
"You did well lad. I commend you," agreed Bedivere.   
"Uuurrr…thank you?"

The gold was dirty, in the metaphorical sense of course. There was nothing to be done now- only formally arrest the banker and send him off to prison for a long, long, time. And of course there was the divorce. As it was the Countess with the manor and title the banker dropped back from a peerage title to the scrabbles of the dirt. Served him right anyhow. 

But within the sweet is mixed with the bitter. It happened the next day after Ben was paraded around the headquaters- on shoulders, of course, because he was so short. What, did you think he was called Little Ben because he was young? He was, I suppose he was. 

Meanwhile, down in her prison, Redford slipped her hand into the lining of her blazer. She fumbled around, and found what she wanted. It was a little innocuous-seeming plastic knife, the one that looks like ones you can get in a fast food chain. She tore a section off her bedsheet, kneeled down, and tied her legs together. As she was doing this she remembered her mother would demonstrate what she must do next. She did it with her hidden kaiken and several times she always thought her mother had done it. But her mother was an expert with sharp objects and soon her daughter was as well. 

Redford signed, and thought once more of her mother…

-§-

Merlin knew something was seriously wrong when he heard his glasses siren. He checked the notification. Oh no, this cannot be happening. 

"Roxy, come down now!" The two of them rushed to the basement, where Redford was. She looked strangely alive and poised for a person sitting in her own pool of blood. Merlin rushed to his patient, grabbed the torn bedsheet, and immediately applied pressure to her neck. But it was too late.

"Don't feel bad, Merly," Roxy said after Merlin curled himself up in a ball. "She wanted to die anyway, judging by the fact she performed jingai."  
"How did you know?"  
"My mother has a deep fascination with Japan, and half the time would pretend she is Japanese. She looks a little unusual, of course, a dark lady in a kimono! Fancy that! Just as silly as Charlotte wearing one I suppose. But she wears it well and she wears it properly and that is what counts. And yes, she does carry a hidden knife. Just like we all."  
"Yes. Just like we all."


	15. Epilogue

There was the difficult problem of informing Redford’s family what had happened to her. Sure, she did not have the cleanest morals in the world but one cannot dismiss the fact she still had people that loved her. This included her parents and her half-sister. And then it turned out, her children as well. Redford might have almost taken over the world, but at least she was still a cool aunt.

Nobody at Kingsman was exactly sorry to see her go but they still respected her for her brilliance. They sent her body in an oak coffee with brass handles with flowers, all in a cooled plane to preserve her body. Nevertheless Charlotte could not help but feel a sense of lightness in her shoulders, a duty done and a world saved. Eggsy on the other hand…

“Do you think he’ll ever wake up?” This was the first question Eggsy always asked someone, whether it was Roxy, Charlotte, or the nurse, whenever he visited Harry in his room. Everyone agreed he would, eventually.

“You know,” said Charlotte on the Friday before her birthday, “a kiss seems to always wake up the sleeping princess in a fairy tale. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, the likes. Maybe we should give it a try here.” They were by Harry’s bedside in Whitehall, Charlotte on the right, and Eggsy on the left.  
“Would that not be a bit creepy, kissing an unconscious person?"  
“True that. Still, no harm in a little peck on the cheek."  
“Nope."  
“I dare you to."  
“Alright, it’s only a small kiss."

Eggsy then leaned over, shifted back an errant curl of hair, and, carefully avoiding the young beard, kissed Harry on the cheekbone. He then leaned back, slightly disappointed at the lack of response.  
“What half-arsed effort was that?"  
Both Eggsy and Charlotte sprang up to look around the room. Where did the voice come from?  
“Eggsy, what are you doing?"  
Eggsy and Charlotte looked down. Harry was there, eyes open, smiling. “Eggsy, this is not how you kiss a lover. That chaste patheticness is reserved only for…"  
By that time Eggsy had already returned to the bedside and planted his lips fully on Harry’s. Charlotte turned respectfully away. Somehow she had the notion first kisses were supposed to be private, but she could not stop smiling. “Better now?,” Eggsy whispered. “Mmm,” Harry agreed.  
“Well, I shall leave the two lovebirds be,” said Charlotte as she left the room.

-§-

The party was a grand success. Everybody Charlotte wanted was there, apart from Eggsy and Harry. Charlotte understood.

In the meantime she had to introduce Roxy Morton with a lot of people. Her parents, her brother, her family friends, and finally the children of her family friends. The Anderson twins were delightful but it was the Watson siblings that made the most impact.  
“Roxy Morton, meet Roxanne Watson. Roxanne, meet Roxy,” said Charlotte with some light giggles.  
“Nice to meet you Miss Watson."  
“Same to you Miss Morton."  
“The weather is simply lovely today."  
“I cannot disagree."  
“And the dress, simply smashing!"  
“Thank you."  
“Have you met my brother yet? Brian? Brian!"

Brian walked over with a light step and cheeky smile. The plastic surgeons did a good job on him, thought Charlotte. Her views were confirmed by Roxy.  
“Urr, umm, hello,” stuttered Roxy.  
Somehow the effect was mutual. “Oh, err, hello, I suppose."  
Charlotte had to keep her laughter in her throat. “Brian, this is Roxy Morton. Roxy, you already know who he is. Talk about…oh, I don’t know, grass or something. Get to know each other better.” She then pushed them both to a private enclave. “Let me tell you,” said Charlotte to Roxanne, “she will not make a bad half-sister."  
“Charlotte. Mike desires your company.”  
“Uncle Greg, you look lovely today. I can see a holiday has done wonders to your complexion."  
“I thank you. Roxanne, can you please excuse Charlotte?"

Charlotte was lead through a series of rooms in the manor until she could hear Mycroft nibbling on another raisin cake. Lestrade opened the door and nodded to his dear husband. Charlotte walked in and sat down.

“Charlotte, I have been hearing about you. You were adequate. No, more than that. Competent."  
“Thank you, Uncle."  
“So much so the Queen is willing to give you a honour. Talks of damehood flitters about but one does not want to be weighed down by such honours at such a young age."  
“Especially as there are others who have done more than oneself."  
“Indeed. And you know about the Kingsman Honour Code?"  
“Honour before honours."  
“So what will you do?"  
“Graciously ask that such honours be bestowed to those more deserving than us."  
“You are a lady in all but name. Thank you."

And so it begins.


End file.
